


The Line Between

by ForForever42



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bangtan Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Death is a character, Depression, Different Dimensions, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Monsters, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Welsh mythology - Freeform, death is a major theme throughout the story, everyone is sad, faerieland, the save me webtoon: continued, txt alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 188,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever42/pseuds/ForForever42
Summary: "What would you do to save them?" purred Abraxus."Anything," said Kim Seokjin.Death has been killed, and his usurper has taken to playing with human souls.In one part of Seoul, seven boys—once best friends—have been reunited by inexplicable circumstances. Memories that never happened and pain that should never have been draw them closer as they fight to escape their fates.On the other side of the city, another group of old friends comes together to discover that maybe they aren’t human at all. Maybe a greater purpose has been given them, something they can only truly understand by passing through the gateway into the Midworld: a land between life and death, where monsters lurk in the shadows and greatness waits for those who will take it.The battle between monsters and men grows stronger while the loop threatens to reset at any mistake. Does any happiness await them at the end, or will the false Death keep their souls forever?**Updates Weekly**
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu & Choi Soobin & Choi Yeonjun & Huening Kai & Kang Taehyun, Choi Beomgyu & Kang Taehyun, Jeon Jungkook & Jung Hoseok & Kim Namjoon & Kim Seokjin & Kim Taehyung & Min Yoongi & Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 95
Kudos: 51





	1. Prologue and Euphoria: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Brief description of the PARTS, if you want to skip around:  
> PART ONE: EUPHORIA: BTS intro. Sad kids with memories that never happened. Deals with the devil and fighting to survive  
> PART TWO: NAP OF A STAR: TXT intro. Pretty much a high school AU. Ft. Monsters, of the human kind and the not so human. Friendships and mystery. Centered around the Nap of a Star MV. Hueningkai centric.  
> PART THREE: JUST ONE DAY: The aftermath of the ending of PART ONE. Hospitals and recovery. JungkookxOriginalFemaleCharacter. Taehyung solving mysteries. Namjoon's deal begins to play out, and so does his backstory. Seokjin and Yoongi both making poor life decisions. HoseokxOriginalFemaleCharacter. Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin and Jungkook. Jimin is literally the sweetest and deserves the world.  
> The following is background information and content warnings for this story. If you don't care, feel free to scroll down to the prologue.
> 
> This fic is directly based on my theories/opinions of the Bangtan Universe/Tomorrow x Together Universe storyline, as shown in BTS and TXT's music videos, The Notes, concept photos, and the Save Me Webtoon.  
> I don't claim that this is what the brilliant minds at BigHit are intending with their storyline. I'm sure I've missed some important details, and I've also intentionally ignored or changed other details to better fit my progressing plot.  
> I've written the characters as they are portrayed fictionally, not as the actual members of BTS and TXT, though some traits will be similar to how the band members are seen in real life.  
> My original characters generally have a basis in the universe (brief appearances in music videos, for example), but as there is not much material on them, I've expanded a lot. A handful are entirely of my own creation and have taken on a life and role of their own.  
> A disclaimer: I am not Korean and have never been to Korea so I'm sure I am messing up a lot of cultural things... I did my best, but I'm sure most of it is a lot more like an American high school story than something out of Seoul. Alas. Someday, maybe, I'll know better and completely edit the story for the sake of accuracy, but today is not that day.  
> Before reading my story, I highly recommend you read the Save Me Webtoon, which can be found on the Webtoon app or website. You'll get along all right without it, but things will make a whole lot more sense in the beginning if you know what I'm building my story from. Also, like, go watch as many BTS and TXT music videos as you can. They're amazing, and theorizing about what might be going on is so much fun.  
> As for content, I have rated this fic as Mature due to themes of suicide and violence, along with smoking and some drug references. I hope I've handled all of these issues in ways that are honest and do not glorify anything harmful. If you know the Bangtan Universe and the Save Me Webtoon, you know what to expect. There is some romance, but at its core, this is a story about friendship.  
> New chapters will be posted weekly on Fridays. I'm still writing and editing future chapters. This is the longest novel I've ever written, and as of September, the working draft is 220k and counting. I'm several months ahead of my posting schedule in the chapters I'm writing, so don't be afraid of this fic just Ending with No Explanation. I'm deep into this story and don't think I can stop until it's done.  
> I look forward to my first experience in sharing fanfiction, and I hope you will come to love these characters as much as I do.  
> Best wishes,  
> ForForever42
> 
> PS: I have cross-posted this story on Wattpad, so if you prefer that format, feel free to check it out over there.

Prologue

It was supposed to be more fun.

The New Death paced through his own dimension, wondering what had gone wrong. He’d made two deals. Both had reached their inevitable end. He should have been happy.

He wasn’t.

He was simply bored again.

The first deal had been a failure. Kid up and lit himself on fire, which was unexpected. Not in the method, so much, but in the timing. Music had still run hot in his veins, and the New Death thought that would be enough to keep him struggling pointlessly against the misery of his deal for years.

He had dug into the reasoning, so he’d know better next time. Turned out that humans were more fragile than he’d thought. Their minds, most of all. On April 11th, a boy had died. A useless boy. Nothing special. Practically invisible. Ruled an accident at the end. But still, that was enough to send his victim over the edge, the music no longer outweighing his guilt. Before Death could do a thing, the music boy had stopped his own heart from beating.

The second deal, though. It worked. All the way through. Watching this boy’s mind slowly crumble until, instead of giving in to death, he gave into killing. The lust of vengeance, of hatred, of years of building wrath, finally coming to a head with shards of glass driven into his father’s chest. Over. And over. And over again.

The blood staining his hands.

He’d be in prison until he died.

Death had hoped that perhaps there was a little more that could be done with him, but the kid was broken. Nothing left of his soul to play with.

And so, Death paced through the three realms.

He needed something to do. More deals, maybe? Something stronger. Someone more desperate than scared children. Something more… ruining. More twisting. More violent. Something with potential.

A weird ringing had begun in his head. Something like thirst. Something like fear. He should not be Death, and he knew it. But this was not the time to think of that.

There.

He felt it.

Someone desperate enough to listen to a soft voice.

A young man sat on the edge of the cold sea, head pressed into his hands. The waves lapped up every few seconds, stopping far short of him.

Regret filled him. Oh, so much regret, and he hadn’t even spoken to the devil yet.

Death could work with this.

He slithered through the boy’s memories. Hmm. What a coincidence. He knew them. The fire-music-boy and the glass-bottle-boy. Death felt the moments. The times where this young man had seen the others. Where he’d thought of saying hello, but had walked away instead.

A million possibilities flitted through Death’s mind.

Yes. This would work.

Death became beautiful. His voice sweet, not cold.

Make it simple. This kid was distraught enough to not even realize what he was saying.

“What would you do to save them?” purred Abraxus.

“Anything,” said Kim Seokjin.

Death had never played with time before. This would be very fun—and, in theory, would never end.

Part One  
Euphoria

_Who, who are you, who are you really anymore?  
I said who, who am I, I don’t know what I’m heading for._  
-Neighborhood, American Authors 

Chapter 1  
May 2, Year 22

“What?” The voice was louder than Jungkook thought it should be, but everything seemed loud these days.

“You left him there? Alone?” This time, Seokjin was definitely shouting through the phone. Shouting at him.

Things had been better, for a little bit. Two weeks of thinking maybe, maybe they’d all be okay again. Seokjin was home and it didn’t matter what had happened in the past, they’d all be fine, because they were together again.

And then…

“He cussed me out,” Jungkook said. “He was really drunk. Said he wanted me to get out of his life, so I left.”

Now Seokjin was swearing, but Jungkook felt that it wasn’t directed at him. More at the universe than at any particular person.

It still stung.

“How far away are you?” he finally asked.

“I dunno. A few blocks.”

“Then turn around and get back there. Please, you have to be there tonight.”

“You go see him, if you’re so worried,” Jungkook snapped.

“It doesn’t work with me,” Seokjin said. What was that supposed to mean? “He always liked you best, we have to try this, why can’t you just…”

Jungkook hung up. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he blinked them away.

He didn’t want to, but he turned back.

He wouldn’t go inside. He’d just walk by, because Seokjin sounded so desperate. Why did he care, anyways? Wasn’t Seokjin the one who’d sold them out before running away to America? When he really thought about it, wasn’t Seokjin the reason that Yoongi was living out of cheap hotel rooms, spending what little money he made on soju and cigarettes?

Jungkook kicked a rock into the street and turned a corner. Stupid motel. Everything was stupid.

Once: they were happy. Then: they grew up. What was the point of even trying to go back to what had been before?

He stopped in front of the motel. He’d made sure to memorize Yoongi’s door code. Why, he wasn’t sure. Maybe… maybe if he went up there, Yoongi would be asleep, and Jungkook could crash on the couch and wake up and go to school without Yoongi ever knowing and then Jungkook wouldn’t have to go home and…

He laughed to himself and kept walking, leaving the motel behind him. Stupid. Avoiding tonight’s punishment would make tomorrow’s that much worse. If he took the bus, he still might get home before his stepbrother, and maybe no one would notice him.

His phone buzzed.

Seokjin.

He declined the call.

Then he heard the scream.

It was a child. Somewhere behind him. High and shrill, fading into a sob. A pause for breath, followed by another wail.

It shouldn’t mean anything. Just a kid throwing a fit.

A shiver ran up his spine anyways.

He’d miss the bus if he went back to investigate.

He seemed to remember a nightmare he’d once had. No. A memory. But it certainly hadn’t really happened, because he’d left Yoongi only twenty minutes previously, and Yoongi had been alive.

The child kept screaming, and he heard some adults shouting, too.

He turned back, his walk turning into a run. More clamoring voices. In front of the motel, a crowd had gathered, growing every second. The screaming child clung to her mother. The hotel manager had her phone out.

“What’s going on?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

“There’s smoke coming through the vents,” said the mother.

He heard the manager on the phone. “Yes, but we don’t know which room it’s in, the vents are full of smoke—hey, kid, stop!”

Jungkook knew one thing: Yoongi was not in the parking lot.

Jungkook thought one thing: Yoongi was smoking again, which meant he had a lighter.

Maybe not. Maybe not. Best case scenario, Yoongi was just passed out drunk, and Jungkook could drag him out before the firefighters even showed up to save the building.

He ran up to the second story. He tapped the code. The numbers were warm. Grabbed the door handle.

It took him far too long to rip his hand off of the searing metal. He dropped his sleeve over his left hand and tried again.

Smoke poured out as he opened the door. Jungkook choked, tears streaming unbidden down his face. He covered his nose with his arm and went in.

He already felt lightheaded. He dropped to his knees. Smoke rises, right? That was what they said in school fire drills.

Look. See. Find him. Don’t run away.

Flames licked up the curtains. Sheetrock in the corner crumpled and fell in ashy bits. The carpet was littered with patches of fire, and they leapt up onto the mattress…

There he was. Jungkook tried to call his name, but he could only choke. He crawled past the flames. Sweat drenched him. The searing heat sucked the air from his lungs.

Fire surrounded the still form of his best friend.

Jungkook lunged forward. He grabbed Yoongi under the arms and dragged him off the bed.

Was he still breathing?

His head hung limp as Jungkook dragged him towards the door.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe.

The room started spinning.

The door had closed. He reached for the handle, not thinking to cover his hand. He had no voice to scream with as pain ripped through his other hand.

A cloud of smoke followed them, clinging to his throat and lungs, but air fought its way in. He gasped and coughed, clarity jumping back. Not safe yet. The flames had ripped through the roof. Get him down the stairs.

They reached the parking lot moments after the fire trucks.

Jungkook’s knees went out. He tried to say Yoongi’s name, but his throat, his eyes, his everything was covered in smoke. Uniforms swarmed them. Pulled him away from Yoongi, and he couldn’t even fight them. “No,” he managed, “Is he okay… I have to…” More coughing. What did he have to do? Save him?

Yes.

“Son. What is your name?”

He couldn’t answer because they pushed a plastic mask up against his face. Sweet oxygen scraped through his smoke-coated throat and filled his lungs.

“What is your name?”

The mask came off.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“That was an incredibly stupid thing you did.”

“Did I save him?” Did he really want to answer?

“The roof collapsed just now.” That wasn’t an answer. He wanted to scream at the first responder, Is he alive, but a fit of coughing hit him again.

They had Yoongi on a stretcher, lifting him into an ambulance. The door slammed shut.

“Do you know him?” asked the first responder.

The sirens pounded inside Jungkook’s head like a jackhammer. They were going to take him away. They wouldn’t let him see Yoongi. Yoongi could die alone, and…

A little lie wouldn’t hurt anything.

“He’s my brother.”

###

_He stood with Namjoon and Seokjin outside the emergency room. Watched as Yoongi’s heart flatlined. Burns covered his body. The doctors tried to bring him back, but it was useless._

_  
Namjoon turning away. The look of horror in Seokjin’s eyes. Jungkook’s knees slamming the linoleum… Yoongi had killed himself and Jungkook couldn’t do anything to save him. ___

He flashed back out of the nightmare that felt so real it seemed like a memory.

This was reality:

Jungkook sat in a chair in a stark hospital room. Yoongi lay on the bed. The monitor beside him beeped steadily. Gauze wrapped his left arm. He’d have a nasty scar. His lungs would probably be fine. He should definitely stop smoking.

The doctor—Dr. Lee was his name—had yelled at Jungkook when he’d discovered they weren’t really brothers. But when neither of their families showed any concern about their injuries, he’d allowed Jungkook to see Yoongi.

As for Jungkook, he couldn’t feel his hands, thanks to the painkillers. They were covered in bandages. In a week he’d be fine.

Yoongi had wanted to die. He would have succeeded, too, if Jungkook hadn’t been there. And he almost hadn’t. He’d been trying to find a place to stare at the stars when his phone first rang and—

The door opened. Jungkook jumped up, expecting Dr. Lee or one of the nurses.

“Seokjin?” he said.

Seokjin rushed across the room and hugged him.

Another nightmare:

_Tripping, sky rushing through his hair until he heard his body crash into the pavement. Rewind, replay with the tripping, falling, but someone caught him and pulled him back into a hug…_

Reality: Seokjin, hugging him, while the machine hooked to Yoongi beep-beep-beeped.

“I’ve been here for hours,” Seokjin said, “And they finally let me in. I’m… your hands… what…”

“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook said. “For real.”

Seokjin glanced toward Yoongi. “Is he okay?”

“He’s got a pretty bad burn on his arm, and if he doesn’t want to die of lung cancer before he turns twenty-five he has got to stop smoking, but…”

“He’s alive.”

“He’s alive,” Jungkook repeated. The next words stuck in his throat, but he forced them out. “Does he want to be?”

Seokjin shook his head.

“Is he going to be in trouble? Are they going to arrest him for setting the fire?”

“Thank goodness no one else was hurt,” Seokjin said. “Thank goodness his blood-alcohol level was so high that the police think it was accidental. Still his fault, but not on purpose. And thank goodness the owner was so touched by your selfless act of courage that she isn’t going to press charges.”

He put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “That was really brave, you know? What you did?”

“You’re the one who made me go back.”

“I didn’t make you run into a burning building. You take all the credit for that.”

But Jungkook had to ask. “How’d you know?”

“Hmm?”

He brushed Seokjin’s hand off his shoulder. He really didn’t want to ask. He wanted to forget the nightmares and the memories that never happened. He wanted to think it was his own concern and courage that had saved Yoongi’s life.

The truth was, if Seokjin hadn’t screamed at him over the phone, Yoongi would be dead.

“How did you know I should go back?” he asked, voice just above a whisper. “How’d you know he was going to set his room on fire?”

“I did not know any of that,” Seokjin said, and before Jungkook could protest, he continued, “I just had a bad feeling. He’s been depressed lately, and I knew he started smoking again, and when you said he was drunk enough to cuss you out…”

It wasn’t enough of an answer, but Jungkook didn’t argue. Seokjin pulled him into another hug, and he stayed stiff until Seokjin let go. Mostly, he just wanted to lay his head on Seokjin’s shoulder and cry until he fell asleep, but this was real life.

“I’d better leave before he wakes up,” Seokjin said. “Make sure he knows you saved him. Make sure he knows he’s an idiot, but we love him anyways.”

Less than a minute after Seokjin left—a minute where, every time he blinked, Jungkook was sure Yoongi was dead and this wasn’t reality—Yoongi sighed and opened his eyes.


	2. Euphoria: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Min Yoongi had not often gotten what he wanted.

He wanted to graduate school, but he’d been expelled.

He wanted to have a bed to sleep in—the same bed—every night, but as long as he pursued music, he couldn’t go home.

He wanted to quit music, but that was impossible.

He wanted to die, but Kim Seokjin had dragged him back to this living hell.

Only… it wasn’t Seokjin. Not this time.

“Jungkook,” he said, the word scraping up his dry throat.

He felt as if Jungkook was going to ask him something, but he just sat there, and Yoongi told him the story.

A story he felt he’d told several times before.

He told Jungkook about the flames. Feeling their heat before he passed out. Jungkook just stared at him wide-eyed, like a baby deer caught in the headlights.

Yoongi stopped talking.

His vision cleared, and he really looked at Jungkook.

“What happened to your hands?”

Jungkook blinked.

“I’m guessing you dragged me out,” Yoongi rasped, “And…”

“The door was hot,” Jungkook whispered. “Thank God I thought to memorize the code earlier, or you’d be dead. And I would be, too.”

Yoongi’s mind blurred. “What the hell were you thinking? When a door handle is so hot it burns the skin off your hands, you don’t open it!”

“But you were…”

“I wanted to die!”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and jumped out of his seat. “Don’t say that! Please…” His voice cracked, and he sat back down. “Don’t say that."

Yoongi had seen Jungkook sad many times. None of the others ever noticed. Sweet, quiet Jungkook, maknae of their group. Innocent and certainly happy most of the time. But Yoongi knew. He knew Jungkook was just as sad as the rest of them, even though he never cried.

Once, Jimin had hugged him, and Jungkook had flinched, pain flashing across his face. No one else had noticed. Yoongi had no solid proof that Jungkook’s stepfather hurt him, but more than once, when the kid had fallen asleep listening to Yoongi practice piano, he’d woken up screaming from nightmares. More than once, he’d seen bruises on Jungkook’s arms. More than once, Jungkook had talked about how clumsy he was, always tripping over things.

Never had he seen Jungkook trip over anything.

Never once, through all of that, had he seen Jungkook cry.

But now, in this stiff, white hospital room, Jungkook’s shoulders shook. He stared down at his knees, tears falling onto his bandaged hands.

Yoongi suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. This wasn’t right. He remembered something else. He remembered Seokjin dragging him out of the fire, not Jungkook. Not Jungkook, because Jungkook was dead. Dead? No. Going to die. No. They buried him last week. No…

This was reality: Jungkook, sitting two feet away, crying for the first time since Yoongi had known him.

He turned his gaze to the ceiling and listened to the beep-beep-beep of a computer that must be attached to him somewhere. Every drop of spit in his mouth felt like acid. Ants crawled up and down his skin, except for one spot.

His left arm felt nothing. He jerked his gaze down to it, just to make sure it was still there. Jungkook’s hands had looked bad, but the gauze and tape around his arm was far more ominous. He lifted it off the mattress just to make sure he could. He couldn’t move his fingers, but they were taped together. That was all. Just tape. When he got out of here, he could play piano again.

If not, well, he might as well be dead.

Right?

No. No. Jungkook had…

His thoughts spiraled once more into nightmares. Jungkook was dead. He wasn’t. He would be? They’d all die one day.

“What day is it?” The words creaked up his throat.

“Umm, May 2nd,” Jungkook said.

Wrong. Right? Shouldn’t it be April 11th?

“Go away,” Yoongi said. “You’re annoying me.”

“No.”

Yoongi sighed and looked back at the ceiling, not sure which of his statements Jungkook was responding too. Probably both. And he was right. Yoongi wasn’t annoyed, and he didn’t really want Jungkook to leave. If Jungkook was here, Yoongi would know the kid was alive.

What had happened on April 11th? Why was it so important?

He closed his eyes. A million images flooded his head, but he listened instead. He listened until he could hear Jungkook breathing, alive, only a few feet away.

He wanted a cigarette.

That was impossible. So, instead, he remembered what had really happened on the 11th of April.

###

April 11, Year 22

If he played his cards right, he could get four bottles of soju while only paying for one. The barkeeper seemed sympathetic. Didn’t seem the sort to call the cops on a kid hardly old enough to drink who couldn’t pay his tab. Of course, he might also be the sort to refuse to sell him enough to get really drunk.

Yoongi hoped he was the former. Because if he was going to do it tonight—and his pounding heart told him he needed to do it tonight—he would need to be very drunk.

He fingered the lighter in his pocket.

He’d barely started the first bottle when a hand touched his shoulder. This was another possibility: Someone joining him and paying his tab. It wasn’t likely, but it had happened once before.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice was like a slap to the face. His heart raced faster. He was surprised his hands weren’t trembling.

“It’s been a while,” Seokjin said, sitting across from him.

Yoongi smirked. He couldn’t let Seokjin see how much he wanted to hide under the table and scream until the panic in his mind stopped. Something awful was coming, and he wanted to be dead before it did.

“Not great, I’m guessing,” Seokjin said, glancing around the bar. The cheery barkeeper really didn’t belong here. It was a dive, grime built up in the corners, a stale smell of smoke floating in the air. A few old men were muttering over drinks at the table in the corner, and otherwise, it was empty.

But he was here, and he could get drunk, and then…

“Namjoon gets off work at eleven tonight,” Seokjin said. Like Yoongi cared. “We’re meeting at his place to catch up. I tracked down as many of the old gang as I could.”

“So,” Yoongi said, “Me and you and Namjoon, then? Sounds like a great time.”

“I’m picking up Taehyung and Hoseok next,” Seokjin said, ignoring his snark. “If you could bring Jungkook, that would be awesome.”

“What makes you think I’d know where to look?” He laced every word with venom.

“I talked to some of his school friends earlier.”

“Liar,” Yoongi said.

Seokjin stared hard at him. “They said that sometimes he hangs out on rooftops. There’s a building he especially likes, just a half mile from here. You can grab him and be at Namjoon’s within the hour.”

“What makes you think…” Yoongi started again, but Seokjin shoved a paper towards him.

“That’s where Namjoon lives. It’s not far. Again, you can get Jungkook and be there in an hour. And you don’t seem to have anything else going on.”

Seokjin stood, and Yoongi followed suit. He felt the drink going to his head. Not enough to be any sort of drunk, but just enough to cover the unknown fear clawing its way up his throat.

Seokjin reached to shake his hand, and then pulled Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi’s breath froze in his lungs. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why.

He didn’t know why he intended to light himself on fire, only that he didn’t want to be alive after tonight.

“It’s really great to see you,” Seokjin said, squeezing his shoulders one more time before letting him go. He tossed a bill on the table to cover Yoongi’s drink. “Find Jungkook,” he said, and walked out the door.

Yoongi watched his too-shiny black truck speed past a minute later. Seokjin wasn’t one of them, not really. Never had been, never could be. Not with a car like that.

He slid Namjoon’s address into his back pocket. The bill sat crisp on the table.

That much money would buy plenty of soju. He could go get drunk in his hotel room. Forget about Seokjin, Namjoon, Jungkook.

Or maybe…

He left the money on the table and walked out of the bar. Pulled out his phone. Shockingly, it still had a charge. He didn’t remember when he’d last plugged it in. He called Jungkook’s number. Straight to voicemail.

He didn’t leave one.

He headed toward the building Seokjin had mentioned.

This was stupid. Jungkook wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night. He’d be at a night school studying English or advanced math while teachers berated him. Or he’d be at home, with relatives who made the teachers seem kindhearted, and also a stepfather who probably sometimes hit him.

The ladder of the fire escape hung haphazardly. Yoongi barely had to jump to reach it and pull it down. He climbed it and started ascending the stairs. With every flight, he was more and more certain Jungkook would, in fact, be here. Up on the edge of the world, breaking the rules while nobody noticed or cared whether he was alive.

By the time he reached the top, he was panting. He really needed to stop smoking if he didn’t want to wreck his lungs and… He smirked at the thought. An hour ago, he was getting drunk with the intention of burning himself alive, and now he was afraid of dying of lung cancer? How stupid could he--

His thoughts broke again as he saw a kid climbing up on the edge of the roof. Too far away to recognize him for certain, but…

“Jeon Jungkook!” he shouted.

Jungkook—it was him, he knew it—turned and stumbled on the edge.

Yoongi blinked.

Within that blink, the nightmare struck.

_Jungkook lying on the pavement, his body twisted in a pool of blood. Police milling around, filling out forms. “Apparent suicide,” one said, “Young male, ID says Jeon Jungkook.”_

Yoongi opened his eyes to reality.

Jungkook jumped off the edge—towards him, thank goodness—and slowly walked his direction.

“Yoongi? That you?”

“No, it’s the queen of England.”

Jungkook smiled. “I called you last week.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t call me back.”

“Nope.” He waited for the why, wondering what sort of lie he’d have to make up in answer.

He was saved from having too. Jungkook’s legs collapsed under him and he crashed to the ground.

Yoongi swore and ran to him.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook said.

“The hell you are,” Yoongi said, kneeling next to him. Jungkook tried to stand and winced. Yoongi grabbed his arm and held him down.

A light caught his face, and Yoongi noticed a bruise forming on his left cheek, and another on his forehead. Blood was smeared under his nose, and more stained the collar of his shirt.

“Your stepdad do this to you?”

Jungkook shook his head.

Yoongi swore. “Be honest with me, or I’ll…”

“It wasn’t him,” he said. “Not this time.”

“And so who?” Yoongi helped him sit back against a metal piling. “And how bad is it?”

“I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ran into someone, down in the alley, and, well, they decided to, you know, teach me a lesson for being a disrespectful punk, and it’s not really that bad. I don’t think anything’s broken. I just got a little dizzy from hitting my head, I guess.”

Yoongi choked back a few swear words. “You’re an idiot,” he said at last. “Walking on the edge of a building when your head is spinning and you just got beat up. Walking on the edge of a building at all is just dumb, and”—

“I do it all the time,” Jungkook said. “I haven’t fallen yet.”

Yoongi blinked.

Nightmare.

_A blurry image of people dressed in a black. A coffin. A face behind the glass, perfectly arranged to look like he was only sleeping. Like Yoongi could reach out, touch his shoulder and wake him up, like he’d done dozens of times before._

“Yoongi,” Jungkook said, the real Jungkook, the bruised and dizzy but still definitely alive Jungkook. “Come here.”

“I am here, stupid.”

“No. Over here.” He patted the spot next to him.

Yoongi swore under his breath but did as Jungkook wanted.

“And?” he said.

“Look.” Jungkook pointed out at the sky.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Keep looking.”

Yoongi stared up at the murky purple sky, annoyance building inside of him. Why the frick was he here? Why did he even care if Jungkook was alive or dead? He was just a punk kid with a rough life, and, honestly, he was probably safer if Yoongi didn’t care at all about him, because Yoongi had…

Then, he saw it. A few stars, peeking through the grime and city lights. Pale and sad compared to what stars should look like, but Yoongi still caught his breath.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Jungkook asked.

“Nah,” Yoongi replied. He glanced sideways at Jungkook, who was staring so intensely up at the sky, just a hint of a smile on his face. Maybe he should be nicer, except for that previous problem that everyone Yoongi ever cared for ended up…

“Do you seriously think it’s incredible?” Yoongi said, to stop his thoughts from spiraling into nightmares again.

Jungkook nodded. “I like that they’re still there,” he said. “Even when the fake lights and the shadows fight to hide them, the stars are still there, and some of them even shine through.”

“You’re really pretentious,” Yoongi said. “Real people don’t say things like that.”

Jungkook smiled and Yoongi wished the stupid kid couldn’t get to him like this.

“It’s even better when you’re walking on the edge,” Jungkook continued, “And you can see the whole city, and the wind blows through your hair and there’s this rush of adrenaline because you’re one wrong step from certain death, and, well, wanna see?”

“No way in hell,” Yoongi said. “I’m not here to die.”

“Well, why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“We haven’t talked in weeks and you never answer my texts, but suddenly you show up the night I get knocked around by some hoodlums.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Seokjin found me and”—

“Seokjin? I thought he was in America?”

“He’s back, I guess, but that’s beside the point. We’re all supposed to meet at Namjoon’s. It’ll probably be boring and stupid, but he told me to find you, so here I am.”

“All of us?” Jungkook said.

“He didn’t say anything about Jimin, but supposedly everyone else will be there.”

“Let’s go, then. I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re the one who wanted to stare at the stars.”

They stood.

Jungkook stumbled.

“You sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”

“That would mean telling my mom what I’m really doing when she thinks I’m at the night school,” he said.

“Okay then,” Yoongi said. He grabbed Jungkook’s arm and put it around his shoulder. Jungkook tensed, then forced a sigh and relaxed. They limped down the fire escape together.

Yoongi had the strange feeling they were stepping back into a better time.

Several hours later, when the fire had long burned out and the caffeine worn off, Jungkook fell asleep on Yoongi’s shoulder. Taehyung and Hoseok were curled together on the floor, the light from a cracked Nintendo DS illuminating their faces. How you could fall asleep playing a video game, Yoongi didn’t know. Namjoon lay on the table, a book on his chest, and Seokjin leaned against Namjoon’s bed. Yoongi could see the back of his head, tilted to the left, and his legs stretched out over the pile that was Hoseok and Taehyung. Someone was snoring lightly. He wasn’t sure who.

Just a few hours ago, he’d been ready to kill himself. To fulfill the curse and remove himself from the equation. To stop his consciousness from witnessing whatever chaos and tragedy might be on the brink of erupting. Happiness was impossible if he was alive.

But now… Maybe he wanted to fight a little harder to see the stars

He leaned his head against Jungkook’s. He took in the sight of his friends, nearly all of them, together for the first time in years.

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

###

May 2, Year 22

He opened his eyes to a fully different scenario. Pain flared over his body, slowed by whatever painkillers they’d given him but certainly not stopped. His left arm, however, was strangely silent.

Jungkook was still crying onto his injured hands. Jeon Jungkook—who, even after Yoongi had crashed back into the darkness and had tried his hardest to make Jungkook hate him—Jeon Jungkook had run into a burning building to save him from killing himself.

Yoongi knew the world would be better if he were dead. He couldn’t explain it, obviously, but he knew it as well as he knew a C Major scale. Only stupid Jungkook didn’t—couldn’t—wouldn’t know, understand, accept that there was nothing that could save Yoongi’s soul. The idiot had nearly killed himself in saving Yoongi's life.

Yoongi squinted his eyes shut. Stars flashed inside his eyelids. Maybe… maybe if he looked a little harder. Thought a little deeper. Maybe then, he would find a way out of his curse. A way where he and Jungkook and the rest of them could be happy, and alive, and together.

It would probably fail. He’d probably end up watching Jungkook die for real and lose his freaking mind. But he wouldn’t die on purpose.

There was nothing worse than watching your family die. He wouldn’t do that to Jungkook.

The cards were stacked against him. But hell, if he could make Jungkook smile a few more times before the world fell apart, he would.


	3. Euphoria: Chapter 3

April 12, Year 22

“I can give you twenty bucks a month,” Hoseok said, “Plus a free burger five days a week.”

“Hun, no one gets lessons for twenty”—

“I don’t want lessons,” he continued, “Just studio time.”

The secretary of the dance school sighed. “And when do you want this studio time?”

“Ten-fifteen until midnight, Wednesday through Sunday. I’m more open on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

She looked over her glasses. He knew he’d almost succeeded. He gave her a half-grin that almost always earned him a tip from middle-aged women at the burger joint.

“No,” she said.

“Please,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ll bring burgers six days a week. I’ll clean the bathrooms, scrub the floors, I’ll”—

“Oh, shut your mouth already. I’m giving it my best. Let me think.” She clicked around on her computer. He leaned forward as far as he could without it seeming creepy, but he couldn’t see the screen. She was probably on Twitter. Probably just waiting for him to leave.

“How are you at ballet?” she asked.

“It’s not my favorite style, but I have some experience,” he said.

“One of our team girls practices late three or four nights nights a week. She generally practices alone, but she’s entered in a competition in three weeks’ time. This would mean nothing to you, except that her partner busted his ankle last week and she’s having a hard time finding another one that suits her. If you could take his place, I’m sure she’d let you come practice with her.”

“When do I start?” he said, a smile exploding over his face.

“Slow down. She’s at a jazz convention in Tokyo. She’ll be back by the weekend. I’ll let her know you’ll be here at 10:15.”

“Should I pay you now, or later?” he asked, pulling a wad of tip money out of his pocket.

She sighed. “If she doesn’t like you, money will make no difference. If she does—and don’t get your hopes up, she’s incredibly picky with her partners—I’ll just settle for a burger once a week. How does that sound?”

“Incredible,” Hoseok said.

He walked towards home. He had a new studio. Not for certain, no, but there was no way a girl looking for a good dance partner would turn him down. He lived and breathed dancing. It was in his blood, and if he ever stopped, it would be because he was dead.

He knew this for a fact, because no one of his socioeconomic status should be a dancer, yet here he was. He was only in the predicament of not having a studio because his previous studio had closed. Probably because they took on too many charity cases like him.

His shoulder ached, and he stretched it. Must have slept funny last night. Which made sense, since he’d slept for five hours on the floor of Namjoon’s container house. He’d woken up with Taehyung drooling on his shoulder and one of Seokjin’s feet in his face.

All of them in one place again, just like they’d never parted.

Only, they had parted.

And it wasn’t quite all of them.

Jimin was missing. Seokjin hadn’t been able to find him. 

Last time Hoseok had seen Jimin had been two years ago, just before everything had fallen to pieces. He’d known Jimin was sick. Missing school almost once a week, often leaving class to go to the nurse’s office, but Hoseok hadn’t known why until that day.

They were at the bus stop, talking, like they always did. Jimin hadn’t said anything in a few minutes, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d looked kind of pale, and when Hoseok asked if anything was wrong, he’d collapsed onto the concrete.

Hoseok called an ambulance while Jimin convulsed on the ground. There was nothing else Hoseok could do.

He went to Jimin’s house after a week. Jimin’s mother, her hair back in a tight pony tail, had opened the door.

“Jimin won’t be coming to school anymore,” she had said, without even greeting him.

“But is he okay?” Hoseok had asked.

“He’s been sick for many years and always will be,” she said, and closed the door in his face.

“Come on!” he shouted, “I’m his best friend! Just let me see him. Please.”

He’d stayed for three hours, but then he had to go to work. All future attempts ended with the same results, and, eventually, he’d stopped trying.

In the present moment, he was crossing a bridge. He crossed this bridge every day, walking to or from the burger joint. Today, it felt a little different.

Halfway across, he thought he heard a familiar step behind him. Almost felt a hand on his shoulder, but at the moment he turned, sleep hit him so hard he didn’t feel his forehead hit the concrete.

###

Two more days of being locked in this place, then they’d let him out. That was good. It could have been much worse. That’s what the doctor said. Of course, the doctor also said he needed to take it easy for a few weeks. Hoseok said he would. And he would be careful. But dancing was breathing. Non-negotiable if he wanted to keep living.

Sitting still had never been one of his strong points. He crept through the halls of the hospital in sock feet, avoiding nurses as he went. It wasn’t that hard. A game, really. To keep him from thinking that, at any moment, without his consent, he could collapse into unconsciousness and potentially hurt himself. 

He ducked into a closet, barely getting the door closed before two nurses came around the corner. They paused just outside, chattering.

The area he was currently exploring was the ward for mental patients. He’d been here once before. The orphanage had sent him after he’d fallen asleep three times in the same week. The third time, he’d crashed off the playground and broken his wrist.

They thought he was faking it. Munchausen’s syndrome. Doing it for attention. He wasn’t. He didn’t want attention. He just wanted to dance until he didn’t feel anything else. 

Over the next few months, there was inconclusive psychotherapy, half a dozen different meds (none of them any good for anything), and then he flunked out of school. 

It ended up being for the best. The last school that would take him was the one where he found something he’d never had before:

Friends.

That fell apart eventually, of course, but honestly, it was to be expected. They had a good run at happiness, but nothing ever lasted. One event led to another. First, Jimin’s seizure at the bus stop. By the end of the week, Yoongi had been expelled for hitting a teacher. Namjoon vanished without saying goodbye. The office said he’d moved away. Seokjin left for university in America. Taehyung transferred. Jungkook got lost somewhere inside himself, and Hoseok didn’t have the focus to find him.

But, again. Nothing good ever lasted. Life was like that. Keep the memories and make the future better. Or, in other words: lose yourself in dance or drugs, and dance was the more socially acceptable option. 

“What about Park Jimin?”

He snapped out of his head and back to the present. The nurses’ conversation was no longer irrelevant.

“What about him?”

“I’ve been working here for three months, and he’s still here.”

“Heh, three months is nothing. That kid’s been here for years.”

“Why?”

“Why are any of them here?”

“He’s not sick, he has parents, and whatever meds they have him on seem to be working.”

“Not our job to ask questions.”

“Come on. He’s a sweet kid just wasting his life in here. Don’t his parents know how well he’s doing?”

“His parents are the ones who put him here. His mother is a surgeon, and his father has money. If they say he needs to be here, here he stays.”

They wandered out of earshot. Hoseok caught the words “PTSD” and “seizures,” and they were gone.

He crept out of the closet.

Jimin was here? Had been for years? Could Hoseok find him?

He padded to the stairwell and wondered if Jimin would even want to see him. If Jimin was only a few miles away all these years and he never knew, that made Hoseok a pretty awful friend, didn’t it?

A woman wearing a hat and child passed him going down the stairs. They didn’t say anything about him being out and about in the halls. Which made sense, since they weren’t nurses—just a mom and a kid. He was almost a full flight up when he heard her voice.

“You’ve been so good. Just a little longer, and you can have a candy bar!”

Not possible. Every rational part of his brain screamed at him it wasn’t possible. But that voice… that hat… 

He was six years old again.

_“Count to ten.”_  
He turned and ran down the stairs.

“Mom?” he called.

He glimpsed her profile. 

Not his mom.

His foot caught and he pitched forward.

His mind went all blurry. It was as if he had seen this and was seeing it at the same time. Like he knew what was going to happen here.

Like this was the end.

_A snap in his ankle. Pain shooting up his spine. His head hitting. Another snap. Cold nothing enveloping him._

But no.

That didn’t happen.

“Are you okay?”

Someone had caught him from behind.

He grabbed the railing, his hands trembling, and glanced over his shoulder.

“Jimin?”

###

“So,” Hoseok said, sitting on the edge of Jimin’s bed, “It’s been, like, two years.”

“Has it?”

Hoseok blinked, then said, slowly and deliberately, “Yeah. Almost exactly. You… you didn’t know that?”

Jimin shrugged and hugged his knees to his chest. “My clock stopped ticking a long time ago.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”

Jimin’s eyebrows drew together. “When every day is the same, time gets all mixed up. It doesn’t even seem to matter if it’s morning or evening. It just… keeps going.”

“Why the heck have you been in here for two whole years? You look fine.”

It wasn’t entirely the truth. Jimin was thinner than Hoseok had ever seen him, and looked a little like the light was all burned out inside of him. Not like the days when they’d take the long way home, skipping the bus entirely to talk about all the things they’d do when they finally graduated. When they were free from guardians and parents. Free to live like they always wanted.

None of that had come true.

“Mom says I’m better being here, where they can take care of me if anything goes wrong again.”

“Do they?”

“Hmm?”

“Do things go wrong? Do you have… seizures still?”

Jimin shrugged. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Sometimes the nurses don’t even realize it happened.”

“Funny thing I met you here,” Hoseok said, not quite sure how to handle all his thoughts. “It’s been two years, but just a couple nights ago”—

A knock interrupted them. Hoseok jumped. Jimin stared blankly ahead.

“Jung Hoseok,” said a the nurse that stepped in, “First off, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Hey,” Hoseok said, smiling, “He’s an old friend. Ran into him in the hallway. Woulda been rude not to say hello, and…”

The nurse kept glaring, so he shut up.

“Second,” she continued, “You have visitors in the waiting area. A Kim Namjoon and Kim Taehyung, and they said others would be arriving shortly.” She said it as if she didn’t fully approve, and left as swiftly as she’d arrived.

“Well, let’s go,” Hoseok said, smiling at Jimin. “They’ll be so happy to see”—

“Don’t tell them I’m here,” Jimin blurted, and stared at his knees.

Hoseok’s heart beat faster. Like whatever he was going to say next could save or destroy the entire world. But that was ridiculous. He probably just needed another painkiller.

“Okay,” he said, leaning forward and ruffling Jimin’s hair. Jimin tried not to react, but he smiled. Well, not really smiled, but the corner of his lip twitched in a positive way, and that was enough.

“I know they’d love to see you,” he said, “But it’s your choice.”

He walked out of the room.

A few seconds later, he heard Jimin follow him.

###

His choice. His choice, Hoseok had said. He had chosen to come down here. To see them.

They were so unbelievably excited. Taehyung even jumped over the table and hugged him, which made Jimin’s skin crawl until he reminded himself that this was okay. He had chosen to come, and if that meant Taehyung hugging him, that was okay. It was even, maybe, good. That maybe, when time had still been moving, he liked being hugged.

They sat around a table, and Jimin listened as Hoseok told them about his new dance studio, and his terrible attic apartment that almost made him miss the orphanage (Jimin knew this wasn’t true), and how his boss would probably end up firing him—or would, if there were any other kids willing to work his shift and not play on their phones the whole time.

“And, like, I’d totally be on my phone, too, except it doesn’t have internet and I have no one to text.”

“I’ll text you,” Taehyung said.

Namjoon shoved the younger kid, then turned to Hoseok. “Seriously, though, don’t get fired. Flipping burgers might suck, but it’s got to be better than the gas station.”

“Eh, I think the customers are worse. People buying gas can’t complain that it tastes bad and threaten to get me fired for making exactly what they ordered.”

“Huh, well, they still…” he paused. “Customers are jerks no matter the business, I think.” Namjoon’s pause wanted to be words. There was a fact there, something he was afraid of saying, so he didn’t. 

Lie by omission. 

Yoongi and Jungkook showed up. Jungkook hugged him, and, yes, it was okay. This human connection.

Conversation continued. They all said more than their words did. Hoseok talked quickly and in the most dramatic way possible so he could forget how sad he was. Namjoon was two steps from sleeping under a bridge, but they talked about his storage container house as if it was a luxury apartment in Gangnam. Jungkook had the yellow remnants of a nasty bruise on one side of his face that no one commented on. Taehyung grinned at every joke and made snarky comments whenever possible.

Yoongi, though… he looked familiar. More than any of them. His gaze would lose focus, and he’d seem to lose himself in the blur of camaraderie. Then Jungkook would say something or laugh (though he was even quieter than he had been before), and Yoongi would blink and start listening. Only for a minute or two, and he’d drift off again.

“Jimin. Earth to Jimin.”

“Huh?” Jimin must have been drifting, too. Taehyung was kicking him under the table. “What?”

“You can’t have really been here for two years.”

Jimin shrugged.

“Man, that’s messed up,” Namjoon said. “You’re not that sick, right?”

Jimin shrugged again.

“I mean,” Taehyung said, “Even kids with cancer get to go out sometimes, unless they’re like literally about to die.”  
A weird quiet fell over them. Everyone looked away from him in different ways. Hoseok, for example, looked as if he was either going to start a comedy routine or run out of the room.

“You aren’t dying, right?” Jungkook asked. Interesting, he was the one to ask it.

“No,” Jimin said, “But I’m still really sick. Or, well. I could be. So I stay here.”

“Let’s break him out,” Taehyung said.

Yoongi smirked. “That could be fun.”

“Seriously, yeah!” Hoseok jumped up. “Let’s go get some pizza. It’ll be awesome.”

Jimin did not protest as Hoseok pulled on Namjoon’s hoodie and Taehyung helped Jimin into his jacket. To look less like patients, Jimin guessed. It was stupid and incredible and…

“What are you doing?”

They looked up.  
Seokjin stood in the doorway. Older than he was when Jimin had last seen him, _which was three days from now—_

No—

Two years ago. 

He shivered. 

What a strange thought to pass through his head.

“We’re breaking Jimin out!” Taehyung said, grinning so wide it must have hurt.

“That’s stupid,” Seokjin replied. Direct.

“It would be stupid to leave him here,” Namjoon said, “Kid’s been trapped here for two freaking…”

“But you don’t even know why he’s here,” Seokjin said, “Or how sick he is, or what might…”

“The nurse will catch us if we wait any longer,” Hoseok said. He took Jimin’s arm and they slid past Seokjin.

Seokjin did not stop them, but he asked a question as they darted down the hall.

“Did you ask him if he wants to go?”

No one answered. Because, of course, they hadn’t.

###

Three days passed.

Jimin had not left the hospital.

His mother had stopped them in the halls. Jimin hadn’t fought her as she grabbed his arm. He’d even said it was okay. 

His friends should go. 

He should stay.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

He pulled his head out of the sink, took a breath, and plunged it under the water again.

His mother had screamed at him. No, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t screamed. Just told him very firmly that he was an idiot trying to leave. That he was such a burden on her and his father. They’d never asked for a son like him. A son so sick he would never be any use to anyone.

She was right. Jimin knew liars when he saw them, and his mother wasn’t one of them. He had started to cry. He hated it when he cried in front of her.

He pulled his head out and breathed. He looked in the mirror.

Should he try and tell the others that Yoongi wanted to kill himself? They’d probably laugh at him. No way would one of their friends commit suicide. 

But Jimin knew what it looked like when you wanted to die. 

He saw it in his own reflection every day.

He let the water in the sink drain. He turned to the bathtub and twisted the tap closed. The water was deep enough.

He knelt next to the tub and stared at the still-rippling water.

There were two things that could happen tonight: he would be known as Park Jimin, the sick boy who killed himself. Or, maybe someone would come, and be in time to save him—drowning could be a tricky way to die—and he’d be known as Park Jimin, the sick boy who tried to kill himself.

He brushed the surface of the water.

“It’s your choice.”

Only it wasn’t. He’d go under the water, but only chance determined if he’d die or some over-attendant nurse would come check on him and subsequently revive him.

He didn’t have a choice. Never had a choice. Ever since…

He lay on the floor for a few minutes, shivering. He should have started already. Could be dead already. Would anyone care? 

Yoongi was going to do the same thing. End his life. One of these days. Jungkook would miss Yoongi, Jimin was sure. If Yoongi knew how much, surely he wouldn’t go through with it.

Would Hoseok miss Jimin?

No. The Jimin Hoseok had been friends with had died two years ago.

His choice.

His…  
What if it was his choice?

What if he could do whatever he wanted?

_“Did you ask him if he wants to go?”_

Seokjin had said that.

What was the answer?

He’d accepted the fact that he’d die in this hospital, whether it was tonight or in fifty years.

But did he want that?

What did he want?

###

Hoseok knew her.

The girl.

Her name was Choi Jaeyeun, or, as she’d preferred in middle school, just Jae. Her teachers thought she’d been influenced too strongly by the American dance workshops she attended every school break.

They’d been friends in seventh grade. Well, as close as Hoseok had ever had until that time. They’d dance together. She invited him to her 13th birthday party, but the party ended up just being them and two other kids from dance class playing games at the park, no adults and no cake in sight. 

She’d transferred to a more prestigious academy for eighth grade, and he hadn’t seen her since.

“So, this is a ballet contest,” he said, as she finally paused. She’d been dancing for a half hour straight. Hadn’t even greeted him, or acknowledged their history. Just said “Watch,” pointed to a corner, and continued her routine.

“Interpretive, but the foundation needs to be solid.”

He nodded.

“Now, you,” she said, unplugging her phone.

“What?”

“Dance. Show me what you can do.”

“Ballet?”

“I don’t flipping care. I need to know if I’m wasting my time. Start dancing. I’ll stop you when I get bored.”

He stood and walked to the speaker as she sat in the corner. His music was on a ten-year-old iPod, and his face went hot as he plugged it in. Why did he care what she thought? She obviously didn’t remember him. And music was music, no matter where what device it came from.

He chose a hip-hop playlist, pressed shuffle, and got started. She’d probably stop him after thirty seconds, so he might as well enjoy it. It was obvious that any fond memories from their middle school classes together meant nothing to her.

Shockingly, she didn’t stop him, but he was only vaguely aware of it as one track blurred into the next. His heart pounded. Blood pumped through his veins. This was it. The reason to be alive, even when a customer had thrown a milkshake at him after lunch, and he’d nearly stepped on a dead rat in the stairwell of his apartment building this morning.

"Okay, stop."

He stopped.

Sweat dripped in his eyes. “Bored?”

“Nah,” she said. “You pass. We have forty-five minutes to see if you learn as well as you improv, Jung Hoseok.”

She didn’t quite smile saying his name, but a little bit of attitude curled around the syllables.

“You still going by Jae?” he asked.

“Always. Get a drink, and let’s get started.”

###

At exactly midnight, she stopped the music, nodded at him, and followed him out to the parking lot. The key clicked in the lock behind them. She didn’t say another word. Her car squealed as she raced down the road.

If he had the keys, he would have stayed all night.

But he didn’t have the keys. He also didn’t have a car. So he walked towards home.

The neighborhood became exponentially more crappy with every block. He put his odds of being mugged at forty percent. All he was carrying of value was the ancient iPod and nearly-as-old cell phone, but no one would know that until they’d already beat him up.

It was worth it, though. To dance.

He walked up eight flights of stairs. Someone had kicked the dead rat down to a landing. He tried not to look at it, but even this small glimpse made his thoughts all dizzy. As soon as he got in his apartment he’d take--

He opened the door without putting the key in and stepped inside before realizing how wrong that was.

The lock had been forced.

Had someone honestly broken into his flat? What could they possibly think he had to steal?

The hairs on his arms stood up.

Whoever had broken in was still here.

He could hear them breathing.

Should he run out into the hallway and call the cops?

No. 

First, the rat was out there. Second, the cops would probably hang up on him once he told them his address.

It was probably just some homeless junkie. Hopefully harmless. Maybe not. 

He crept further inside. He wished he had something, anything he could use as a weapon. Panic rose in him. The sound of breathing was all around. He couldn’t run. The rat was out there. Bugs crawling out of its eyes. 

“Would you miss me?”

He jumped at the voice, and lunged for his lamp. He fumbled for the switch, bracing himself to be hit, ready to fight back.

Light flooded the room.

He still didn’t see anyone.

“Would you?”

What looked like a pile of laundry in the corner materialized into a person.

“Jimin? What the hell are you doing here? You scared the… How’d you get here? What’s going on?”

“I almost died,” Jimin said, staring at the ground. “I almost died but I decided I didn’t want to. I want to live. But I can’t live in there anymore. It’s terrible, not knowing what day it is, no one to talk to.” He looked up. “Don’t make me go back, Hoseok, please, I can’t, I can’t go back there, I can’t”—

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” Hoseok said. His mind whirred. He had no idea what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Time doesn’t really…”

“Was it light or dark?”

“Dark.”

Hoseok bit back a curse. “Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have been jumped, or, hell, even killed, you…”

Idiot. The door was still opened. Hoseok closed it and slid the bolt. He turned on the overhead light. Then he went over to Jimin, still huddled in the corner, wearing his hospital clothes. He was shaking like a leaf about to get yanked off a tree by the winter wind. His hair was all messy, like he hadn’t combed it after washing it.

“I get wanting to run away,” Hoseok said, sitting in front of him. “But why tonight? Why here?”

Jimin shuddered. “I was going to kill myself but I decided I wanted to live.”

Hoseok blinked. He felt outside himself. This wasn’t happening.

“I thought you might be the only person who would maybe miss me, if I died, so I came here.”

Hoseok blinked again. He wanted to say something stupid and make Jimin laugh, because this, this wasn’t possible. Jimin, thinking about suicide? Jimin, thinking Hoseok was maybe the only person who would miss him? That was—

That was—

That probably made a lot of sense to a kid who’d been trapped away so long he’d even lost track of time. But Hoseok had seen him just a few days ago. He'd seemed okay. Definitely not good, but not like he wanted to die, either. How had he not seen anything?

“Would you? Or am I wrong? I’m not usually wrong.”

Hoseok’s chest tightened so much he could hardly breathe. He wanted to run out the door and past the dead rat and back to the studio where he could dance and forget, forget, forget…

Instead, he stayed.

“I’d miss you,” he said, and even though the words were true, he didn’t want to say them, because saying them acknowledged that this was real.

“I don’t want to die,” Jimin whispered, “I don’t want to.”

“You’re not gonna,” Hoseok said, “I promise.”

###

Jimin fell asleep quickly, now wearing one of Hoseok's hoodies and looking less like an escaped mental patient and more like a scared kid. 

Hoseok had no clue what to do now. He wanted to go take some pills he wasn’t supposed to have and fall into a deeply numbing sleep, but Jimin was there, and Jimin needed him to—

To—

To what?

He had no clue what to do now. He’d promised Jimin could stay. That he’d never go back to that death trap that had stolen the past two years of his life. He’d tucked a blanket around his shoulders as Jimin lay on the ragged couch and told him to go to sleep, and everything would be fine in the morning.

More likely, the police would come, and arrest Hoseok on kidnapping charges and he’d go to jail and Jimin would go back to the hospital and drown himself and…

His phone buzzed.

Text from Seokjin.

_What’s up?_

A little odd to receive a “What’s up?” text at two in the morning, but he responded immediately.

_Not much. Jimin just showed up on my doorstep saying it was either run away or suicide and also I promised him he never has to go back and he’s sleeping on my couch but I think this might be kidnapping, idk, just, you know, don’t want to go to prison but also Jimin is sure as hell never going back to that hospital. hbu?_

Seokjin: _You okay with all that?_

Hoseok: _Not really, but I’m doing my best._

Seokjin didn’t reply for a while, and Hoseok wondered if maybe he’d run off to California again without saying goodbye. Sleep started to fall on him, which was quite the feat, sitting upright in this rickety rocking chair he’d taken from a dumpster.

His phone startled him awake.

Seokjin: _I emailed a lawyer my dad knows. Soft spot for abuse and neglect cases, and also, Jimin’s legally an adult, so his mother shouldn’t be able to force him to go back if he doesn’t want to. But hopefully this lawyer will make it certain. And he’ll need to find a place to stay, if he cuts all ties with his parents._

Hoseok: _He can stay with me._

Seokjin: _Can you afford that?_

Hoseok: _Heck yeah._

It was a lie, and Seokjin probably knew it. A few more minutes passed.

Seokjin: _Lawyer called me. Jimin’s mom already reported him missing. Can you bring him to the NW Station at 8 tomorrow?_

Hoseok: _There’s no way his mom can take him back?_

Seokjin: _I don’t think so._

Hoseok: _I’m gonna sleep then. See you at eight._

He set his alarm for 6, and 6:03, and 6:05. The chair creaked as he leaned back and thought about what he’d just done.

Jimin was totally out on the couch, kinda looking like he should be in the hospital. He looked way too young to be out on his own. Way too young to live in this neighborhood. Not like Hoseok was much older. Barely more than a year, and the orphanage had sent him out the minute he’d turned eighteen. 

But that was all beside the fact. The truth was, Jimin would have to stay here. And Hoseok would have to feed him, somehow. All that was in the fridge right now was half a gallon of milk, three eggs, and a near-empty jar of kimchi. Also, he had only twenty-three dollars to last until Friday.

He had to watch over Jimin, and he could hardly watch over himself. 

What if Seokjin was wrong? What if Jimin’s mom did get him back, and threw him into the hospital again, and this time he really did kill himself?

His mind looped around the same thoughts for an hour. The idea crossed his mind that maybe he could sleep if he was on the floor. He piled up a few t-shirts as a pillow and laid down.

He closed his eyes and saw a mirror.

The dead rat looked back at him.

He jumped up, gasping, heart pounding. Ants crawled up and down his skin, and even though they weren’t real, he felt them.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Eventually, he sat back down in the rickety chair and drew his knees up to his chest.

“You could have it all,” said the little Voice in his head. “Just a little trade, and you could have everything. No more future of dying like a rat in an alley. No more…”

“Shut up,” Hoseok whispered. Tears pressed at his eyes. Moonlight slipped in through the ripped curtains and fell on Jimin’s face. Jimin, who could have died tonight. Only he didn’t, because he didn’t want to, because he thought Hoseok might miss him.

“I will have it all,” he said, “And I’ll keep my soul, too.”

The Voice in his head laughed, sending a shudder up his spine. “Give it your best shot. But I’m here. Always here. If you need me.”

###

“If you’re tired, we could take a break,” Jae said.

“Breaks… are… for…” Hoseok spun, took Jae’s hand, and supported her as she leapt into the air.

“Losers?” she said, landing perfectly.

“It’s what you always say.”

“Yo, Jimin, we look like losers to you?”

“No way,” Jimin said from his seat against the mirrored wall. “That was freaking awesome.”

“Watch your language, punk,” Jae said. She turned to Hoseok. “Your adorable friend says we’re awesome.”

“I’m not adorable,” Jimin said.

“Yes, you are,” Hoseok replied. He and Jae joined Jimin in the corner.

The competition was in three days. Not only was Hoseok’s dance time dependent on it, but if they won, his half of the prize money was 10,000 dollars, which he needed more than he’d admit to anyone.

He looked at Jae as she set her water down. Her dark eyes stared intensely forward at nothing, and he knew she was playing through the choreography in her head. A few stray hairs were streaked across her sweaty forehead.

Jimin had been living with him for two weeks, and the difference was visible. He was still too skinny, and walking up the stairs to the apartment wore him out, but he no longer looked like he was actually dying.

If Hoseok won 10,000 dollars, he was on a list for a better apartment. Talked his way out of the deposit, even. Still an attic room, but in a part of town where your odds of being mugged were much smaller. He could pay off the money he’d borrowed to buy groceries, and get real beds instead of sleeping on his pathetic couch and the camping cot Seokjin had loaned him.

The money would last a year, maybe more, if they were careful. In that time, maybe he could get a raise, or even a management position, and maybe Jimin would be well enough to look for work, too. And who knows, maybe after winning one competition with Jae, they could find more, and win more money, and…

“Seriously, how many cute friends can a guy have?”

Hoseok snapped back to the present. “Hmm?”

“First Jimin, now this kid’s bouncing around outside in the parking lot. You were off in H-World, so I sent Jimin to let him in.”

A moment later, Jimin ran in with Taehyung.

“Cops after you again?” Hoseok asked.

“Cops?” Jae asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not this time,” Taehyung said, gasping for breath. “It’s not me.”

“Hey, you need to sit down,” Jae said, and she was right. Taehyung stumbled against Jimin and they both sat down.

Taehyung’s face was pale.

Hoseok’s breath went short.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked.

“It’s Yoongi. He was in a fire last night.”

“Is he okay?” Jimin asked faster than Hoseok could process. He took Hoseok’s water bottle and handed it to their friend.

Hoseok felt like he knew the answer. Like this had happened before. Except, in the memory, he—

“I don’t know,” Taehyung said, “But Seokjin said we should go see him in the hospital.”

You didn’t go visit dead people in the hospital. So Yoongi had to be alive. The weird feeling was just that: A feeling.

“Practice time over?” Jae asked.

“Sorry,” Hoseok said.

“Don’t be.”

As Tae and Jimin walked toward the door, she caught Hoseok’s arm. A strange feeling fluttered through him as she did. Which was weird. Because he touched her all the time in their dancing and never felt anything. But this—

“Do you need anything? Can I… I dunno. Help you? That sounded really awkward.” Her hand was still on his arm. “Here: If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Thanks,” he said, “But I think I’ll be okay.”

“If we win?” she asked.

He nodded. “We're going to win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> -Special thanks to Becca for beta reading this.
> 
> -Next Friday I'll be camping in the wilderness. Assuming I'm not eaten by bears, Part 1 Chapter 4 will be posted on Saturday instead of the usual Friday.
> 
> -This chapter is longer than the previous two combined, but I plan on releasing 4,000-6,000 words a week from now on. Usually, it will be one chapter, but in some circumstances will be two. The story controls the chapter length, not me.
> 
> -I'm pretty new to Ao3, but it seems like most fics are double-spaced between paragraphs, so I did that with this chapter. Is this the way people prefer to read?
> 
> ~thanks for reading~


	4. Euphoria: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, I wasn't eaten by bears and have made it back to civilization. Please enjoy this chapter.

“So, you just busted your way into a flaming building?” Taehyung asked. “And dragged him out of there?”

Jungkook shrugged. “More or less.”

“Man, that’s so badass,” Taehyung said, “Like, action hero stuff. I didn’t think you were that awesome.”

A hint of a smile started on Jungkook’s face, but he didn’t react further. 

“Does it hurt?” Taehyung asked, nodding towards Jungkook’s hands.

“Not so much,” Jungkook said. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll be okay in a couple days.”

That was good, because it looked awful, and the bandages were definitely not helping Jungkook eat his sandwich.

Hoseok and Jimin were sitting with Yoongi, which was all that had been able to convince Jungkook to come down to the cafeteria for some food.

“So, what’s going on?” Taehyung asked, and took a bite. “For real. Also, eat. That thing was way too overpriced to waste.”

“He wanted to die,” Jungkook said.

Taehyung expected as much, but having Jungkook confirm it made him feel strange and shivery.

“And I don’t know if I saved him,” Jungkook continued.

Taehyung didn’t know how to respond, so he shoved another bite of sandwich in his mouth and waited.

“I just don’t understand,” Jungkook said, his voice flat, “What could make him think it would be better if he was actually dead? To light his room on fire? And I’m lucky that’s what he did. What if he jumped off a building or stepped in front of a bus? What if he does? Why does he think no one cares?”

“I think he’ll get better,” Taehyung said, “I mean, he didn’t just nearly kill himself—he nearly killed you, too.”

“I told you, I’m going to be fine, I’m”—

“Doesn’t matter if you aren’t hurt bad now,” Taehyung said, “What if the door got stuck? What if the roof caved in ten seconds earlier? What if instead of saving him, you died trying?”

“But I didn’t.”

“Exactly. You’re both alive, and maybe Yoongi will finally get it through his head that we love him and would die to save him, and maybe that’s enough for him to want to live, too.”

Jungkook nodded. He was officially halfway through his sandwich, so that was progress. Taehyung changed the subject, giving Jungkook a highly dramatized tale of his latest night in police custody. But his mind kept thinking, thinking, thinking of things that he shouldn’t, of things that plagued him every day, of questions like…

“What do you think makes someone decide to kill…” he caught himself at the last second and said, “Themselves?”

Damn. That was wrong, too. Finally getting Jungkook distracted, and now he had to bring it up again.

Jungkook chewed and swallowed his last bite before responding.

“I think there has to be”—

“Nevermind,” Taehyung said, “I shouldn’t have”—

“No,” Jungkook said, louder than he’d been all day, “Listen. I think your head has to be in a really bad place. To stop caring if you’re alive. And then you have to go a step further, and instead of just not caring, you have to think it would be better for the world if you weren’t alive at all. Even though it never is.”

“Never?” Taehyung asked, then kicked himself for saying it.

Jungkook looked at him sharply.

“Don’t freak out, I’d never do it,” Taehyung said, “I doubt the world could keep spinning if I wasn’t here, and also, like, I like living. Even though it kinda sucked for a while when we were all broken up, but we’re together again, so. I’m rambling. Basically, I’d never kill myself and I should probably shut up now.”

“Probably should,” Jungkook said, but he was smiling. He believed Taehyung. Because it was true. Stated as he’d said it, it was entirely true.

“I think you can see it,” Jungkook continued, “If you’re watching close enough, but not too close, you know? If Seokjin hadn’t come back”—

“Seokjin?” Taehyung said.

“Yeah. He was really worried about Yoongi. Called me that night and convinced me to turn around and go check on him.”

“Seokjin seems to know everything, am I right?” Taehyung asked, forcing a laugh.

“I know, right?” Jungkook said. “Hey, did you hear about that freshman girl who put posters up all over the night school, claiming aliens are real and they live among us?”

“What, really?” Tae asked.

“Yeah. She’s American, so that’s probably part of it, but also, like…”

Taehyung let Jungkook go on, talking about how this spunky little American had nearly been kicked out of school, and how she wouldn’t shut up about conspiracy theories when she was helping him with his English studies.

Taehyung stopped listening. He was still thinking. Thinking about what would make a person kill themselves. Or, more accurately, kill someone else. And to be more specific: why he might kill Seokjin.

It was just a nightmare. But, lately, nightmares seemed to come true more often than they should.

###

April 11, Year 22

“Calm down calm down calm down,” Taehyung whispered to himself around the lump in his throat. He shivered, even as the morning sun soaked through his black hoodie.

It was just a dream.

But how come he could still feel it?

_Rage he couldn’t control. Righteous anger. Blinding hatred. The shatter of glass against his father’s skull._

He felt sick.

_Someone stopping him. Shouting his name. Getting in the way. Turning and—_

He stopped and choked at the memory.

Of the dream.

The dream.

It was just a dream.

_Slick red blood running over his hands. Everything going sideways as the person gasped. The strange voice in his head whispering, “Well, I didn’t expect that.”_

It would be okay.

He’d get to the apartment. Knock on the door. No one would answer, and if they did, it wouldn’t be—

Wouldn’t be—

He was running up the stairs.

Deja vu hit him and he pushed it down. No. He’d never been here before, unless it was a dream. He couldn’t remember—

He pounded on the door.

Footsteps inside.

The lock turning.

Please don’t be…

Kim Seokjin opened the door.

_It was Seokjin. Seokjin’s face, mouth open, gasping. The broken glass shoved in his chest where Taehyung had stabbed him._  
Tears blinded Taehyung and he collapsed in the doorway. Sobs caught in his throat even as he willed them not to. This was stupid. It was just a dream. A dream where—

_The blood wouldn’t stop. Taehyung screamed. “No, no. Please come back. I’m sorry.”_

_Seokjin went still in his arms, eyes staring blankly at Taehyung’s face._

That was impossible.

He could hear Seokjin now.

Seokjin wasn’t dead on the floor of Taehyung’s apartment. The panic had nearly deafened Taehyung, but he could hear his voice, his living voice.

Taehyung still remembered killing him.

Remembered the sound of the glass driving into his chest.

The words started clearing up. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s okay, Tae. Just breathe. It’s okay.”

His vision cleared next. They were inside the apartment. Seokjin was hugging him.

He shoved him away, and Seokjin jumped back. Good. Taehyung wanted to say something. Anything. But he was still sobbing, damn it, and…

Seokjin tossed a pack of tissues over to him. Practical. Useful. He could do this. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes.

“You’re back,” he said, at last, the words scraping up his throat.

“I’m back,” Seokjin said.

This was a reasonable exchange. Just stating facts. Seokjin had vanished to some university in America two years ago. Now, he was back in Seoul.

Taehyung’s head pounded. Where to go from here?

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Taehyung said, blowing his nose again.

“You showed up at my doorstep in the middle of a panic attack. That’s not nothing.”

Taehyung felt he had two options here:

Option one: Tell Seokjin that last night, he’d come home to his father passed out on the floor next to a dozen empty bottles, and his sister sitting on the couch, holding an ice pack to her bruised cheek.

He jumped straight to option two.

“I had a nightmare that I killed you,” he said before he could chicken out, “And it’s really dumb, but it felt so, so real, that I had to make sure…” his voice stuck.

“That you didn’t kill me?” Seokjin finished for him.

Taehyung still couldn’t talk, so he nodded.

Seokjin shrugged. “Well, I’m here. You didn’t kill me.”

That sounded like a lie.

Taehyung looked at Seokjin—really looked at him. His eyes were red, too. Had he been crying? Why? You’d think he’d be confused at Taehyung’s sudden appearance, maybe sympathetic, but for Seokjin to start crying himself?

“Nightmares suck,” Seokjin said, “You want some breakfast?”

Something clicked. Or spoke. Or moved inside Taehyung’s soul.

“Have to go to school,” he said. “I’m two steps away from being expelled. You know, like Yoongi was, after they found our hideout?” He stared Seokjin straight in the eye. “Remember?”

Seokjin looked blankly at him.

“I heard he’s living out of hotels now, if he’s not in rehab,” Taehyung continued.

A crease formed between Seokjin’s eyebrows.

Stop. Stop now.

But the Thing inside him was stronger.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s dead, actually,” Taehyung said, shrugging. “Like, alcohol poisoning’s a thing. And, like, if my life sucked that much, I’d just end it all.” Very casually, he held his hand like a gun and pointed it to his head. “Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” Seokjin said, “I don’t think he’ll do that.”

“This time?” said the Thing with Tae’s voice.

“You should go to school,” Seokjin said.

“Exactly what I wanted to do,” Taehyung said, and felt himself returning a little. Felt a little guilt for saying those things.

Seokjin opened the door, but as Taehyung walked out, he grabbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tae,” Seokjin said.

“What for?” Taehyung asked, himself again. “I should be sorry. I’m the one who…”

Who stabbed you.

“…Who crashed into your house and got snot all over your shirt.”

Seokjin laughed. Taehyung wanted to cry again, but he choked it down. He turned and descended the stairs.

He was nearly to ground level when someone crashed into him. A couple swear words slid out before he realized the someone was a little girl who probably shouldn’t be hearing words like that.

“Sorry,” he said, as she scrambled to pick up her dropped books.

“It’s okay. I just—gosh—I’m gonna be late, and I wanted to show Kai this—gosh dangit…”

“Let me help you.”

She was blonde, American, and from the math textbook he retrieved from the landing below, probably older than she looked.

He stood up and handed the book back to her, but she was staring at him. She kept staring for a solid twenty seconds.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked.

“Your eyes,” she said.

“It’s allergies, I wasn’t crying,” he said.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I’ve never seen… Well… No, you’re fine. You’re okay.”

“What are you talking about?”

She smiled and took the book. “Thanks. If I run into you again, we’ll talk. I hope we don’t, because, like. I’m freaking you out, aren’t I? I’ll shut up now.”

She brushed past him and ran down the rest of the stairs, across the street, and onto the bus half a second before it took off again.

The experience was almost as weird as the thought that he’d killed Seokjin…

But not quite.

##

May 3, Year 22

Pain shot up Yoongi’s arm, dragging him into the waking world. Good. Dr. Lee had said that pain was good. It meant at least some of his nerves hadn’t been melted into uselessness.

The burn had come from the metal bedframe, which his arm had been resting against as he lay unconscious. So drunk he hadn’t felt a thing as the iron-hot metal seared him.

Thank goodness it hadn’t been so bad with Jungkook—

Jungkook—

Was he still here?

What time was it?

He opened his eyes and blinked.

Jungkook had been replaced by two of the others. Hoseok, who was passed out on the cot they’d moved in when Jungkook refused to leave, and Jimin, perched on a chair, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Who you looking at?” Yoongi asked, his voice rasping up his still-dry throat.

“Good morning,” Jimin said. “Wait. No. It’s afternoon, I think.”

“Did Jungkook finally go home?”

“Nope. We gave Taehyung the job of making him eat something, but he says he won’t leave the hospital until you do.”

“Tae? Is everyone here?”

“Namjoon didn’t want to skip work once he found out you’ll live, but he’ll be here after his shift.”

“God, it’s so annoying, no one will ever give me any peace”—

“Because you’re hurt and we love you,” Jimin said.

Yoongi stared up at the ceiling, but he could still feel Jimin’s eyes on him. Just be quiet and maybe he’ll go away. Or go to sleep. Or…

“I was going to do the same thing, you know,” Jimin said.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I wasn’t so dramatic as to light myself on fire. But I thought I’d pass out underwater and everything would go away.”

Yoongi felt a little sick thinking about this. Sure, he’d gone two years without saying a word to Jimin, but to think of a world where Jimin wasn’t there, where Jimin thought the world would be better without him…

“It’s the same for you.”

Yoongi looked at him.

“Your face,” Jimin continued. “Looks the same as Hoseok’s, when I told him. And the world, well, it would be a much sadder place without Min Yoongi.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, kid.”

##

May 5, Year 22

Namjoon woke suddenly. The world blurred around him. Where was he? What had woken him?

BANG BANG BANG.

Someone was pounding on the sheetmetal door of his container house. Could you really even call it a house? He tried to shake the blurriness from his head as he took three steps from the bed to the door. 

Taehyung grinned at him from the doorway, like only Taehyung could. He leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he was showing up at his friend’s apartment after school, not a storage container sometime in the middle of the night.

“Cops after you?” Namjoon asked.

“Not this time. Finished my masterpiece in peace and quiet.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Why are you here?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Missed you, I guess. And my house sucks. As soon as I get a job, I’m out of there.”

“Graduate first,” Namjoon said, stepping aside. 

Tae limped past him. “School’s overrated.” He stumbled against Namjoon’s sorry excuse for a desk and flipped through the book on top. “Man, why didn’t they let you graduate? I can’t even read this language.”

“English came easy for me,” Namjoon started, “But you have to go to school to actually finish school, and life decided I couldn’t.”

“Can’t you, like, take a test or something? Prove to them you’re smart enough?”

“Maybe someday. Not now. I work too much to think about studying.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Yeah, right. No time to study, but you’ve got time to read and annotate giant English books.”

“I found it used, and it was already marked up.”

Tae kept staring at the pages of the philosophy text. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat: had he written any notes in Korean? Anything important that Tae’s eye might catch?

Thankfully, Tae closed the book and stepped towards the bed.

“Are you limping?” Namjoon asked. Subject changed.

“No,” Taehyung said, but he toppled over onto the mattress in the most dramatic fashion. His face slid from wincing to grinning with hardly any effort.

“You know you could tell me,” Namjoon said.

“Like you told us all you were moving two years ago?” Punk kid knew how to use his words.

“I came back,” Namjoon said.

“Still didn’t say anything. Took freaking Seokjin to bring us all together again.”

“I’m…” But what could he say? Was he sorry? He didn’t regret leaving. Not for a moment. Wouldn’t be back here if—

If—

He sat down at his desk and stared at the cover of the book.

“Besides,” Taehyung muttered, “Not like you could do anything about anything anyways.”

Namjoon flipped through the pages until Taehyung’s breathing slowed. Wind crept in through the cracks at the edge of the container. Full summer would turn this place into an oven, and if he was still here in the winter…

He stood up and walked across the room. Two steps from the desk to the bed. He grabbed a sheet and tucked it around Tae’s shoulders. Tae stayed asleep, even as the ground rumbled from an approaching train. Light from the lantern on his desk flickered across Tae’s face, and… yes, that was a bruise on his jawline.

Namjoon’s hands trembled as he sat back down. He looked around the tiny room, the weird shadows from the battery-powered lantern jumping around the corners. Taehyung’s father hit his son, and there wasn’t a thing Namjoon could do to help him.

Because—

Because—

Because he didn’t know how. He didn’t know anything. He was stuck here not because there was no way out, but because he didn’t know how to find it. If only he knew. If only…

If what the book said was true...

Did he dare try it?

Did he have any other choice?

He pulled on a coat, one that had belonged to his father, and grabbed the book off his desk. The door creaked. He glanced back at Taehyung, but his friend hadn’t stirred.

On his way out of the old trainyard, he passed a kid huddled in a leather jacket, sleeping under a propped-up piece of plyboard. At least he wasn’t as bad off as that.

Despite his coat, ice bit through to his skin. It was a cool May, but nowhere near freezing. Nothing made sense. He held the book tighter.

According to the book, the Church had seemed the easiest gateway to reach, and he found it, first try. In fact, it was so simple, he wondered if he’d been wrong. Deciphered the wrong address. Nothing was odd about this place except for the “NO TRESPASSING” sign on the gate. Also, it was old. He’d seen old churches before, but… this felt really old. Older than it should be.

The gate was padlocked, but it opened inward as soon as he touched it. His teeth chattered with cold and wrongness, and he held the book even tighter.

Grass crunched under his feet. If it was really this cold, that kid under the plywood would freeze by morning. He should go back and check on him, maybe take him to that youth shelter downtown. It wasn’t a great place, but at least it was warm, and—

No.

This wasn’t real. 

It was May, not December. 

He had expected it to be strange. Otherworldly. It was how real that it felt that creeped him out.

On the east side of the church was the door to a cellar. The text referred to this as The Gateway proper. It also appeared locked, but, once again, at Namjoon’s touch, it opened.

A light hummed somewhere down below, sending a fuzzy glow up towards Namjoon. He couldn’t see the end of the stairs. Unease crawled up his spine, but he ignored it. One step at a time, he descended through the passage. 

He expected the stairs to creak.

They did not.

_Run. Run. Run._

He didn’t run.

It had started when he’d first met Taehyung. When they, with the other boys, had cleaned up and practically moved into that old classroom. When he’d realized that something was off. Crooked. Not right. He’d been pulled into something beyond him, and he’d never escape until he knew everything.

It was the day he left that he found the book. Tucked in a corner they’d somehow missed, covered in dust. He slid it into his school bag and headed to the train station, unsure if he’d ever see his friends again.

Now?

He knew things.

He knew what he could get.

He knew that there was nothing natural about this church.

He was nearly down the stairs, one more step, and—

“Fascinating.”

Namjoon froze. He wasn’t even sure his heart was still beating. The light flickered. Some…thing slid around in the shadows. His eyes couldn’t focus on it.

“There are easier ways to find me,” the Thing continued. “More… natural ways.”

Namjoon still couldn’t respond. The logical part of his brain said he’d really fricked things up and he was dead. They’d never find his body down here, in a church that wasn’t quite real.

“Oh, I’m so rude. Speech granted. What do you want, Mortal? What have you come to ask of me?”

“A way out,” Namjoon said.

“Just turn around and go up the stairs.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You think,” the Voice was directly in his ear now, “There’s a way out for a broke loser like you?”

“I know I’m not the first,” Namjoon said, “I need a way out.” Now, be specific… “A way to get into University.” But not too specific. “A place where I can be of use to the people I care about.”

“Knowledge,” the Voice said.

If he could have moved, he would have run. Better to be homeless and useless than to have that Voice twist his will…

Something touched his ankle. Cold and damp, it crawled up his calf. He tried to look down, to swat it away, but it was like his head was caught in a brace.

This had been a mistake.

The thing leapt from his knee to his ribs, the icy dampness crawling upward, and—

He screamed as pain tore through his chest. His knees buckled, and he hit the floor. The book fell from his arms. Fire burned inside him, and he clutched at the source, expecting a hot trail of blood.

“It hurts more this way,” the Voice said.

Nothing. No claw, no knife, no outer wound of any sort.

“Nostalgia softens the blow, but you have no memories here. Now, your power. Hmm.” The voice dipped in pitch. “It is strong. Your moment is coming. Take it for all it is worth, for your fall will be hard. Now go along. Nothing more for you here.”

“Not… yet,” Namjoon said, grabbing up the book. “You have to tell me my conditions.”

A sound like a hundred clattering bones skittered towards him, but Namjoon held his ground. An inhuman language echoed around him, yet he understood. 

“Already working, I see.”

“Terms and conditions,” Namjoon repeated.

“You are smart, and your obstacles have been lessened. If you are also brave, and do not fall in guilt—for what is to come will come, I did not cause it—you’ll, hmm, how did you say? You’ll get out.”

“And the catch?”

“You will know many things, and if asked, you cannot deny an answer. Little hint: this will be very harmful to your friends. That is, if you live long enough.”

“Do I need to accept these conditions?”

“You’ve read the book.”

“Will I live long enough to hurt others with my gift?”

The Voice chuckled, and the cold blew about him like a summer breeze. No longer so deadly, and he almost longed for more of it. “Time is a funny thing of late. You’ve been marked with great power. If anything gets out, It will find you. And with the Midworlders as they are…”

“Expand on that,” Namjoon said, his head spinning.

“The deal is made,” the Voice snapped. “Your knowledge will get you out. Your knowledge will help your friends. And before your knowledge harms them, you will die. Anything else?”

Was there? 

No. 

There wasn’t. 

He knew it as a fact.

“You may go,” Namjoon said.

The presence vanished with a shriek and a clatter.

Namjoon gripped the book against his still-throbbing chest and ran up the stairs, through the churchyard, and out into the night. The gate clanged shut behind him.

As he ran through the trainyard again, he skittered to the side, certain there was a monster in the corner of his eyes—but no. It was just the kid in the sunglasses. Awake or asleep, he didn’t know. Hell, he could be dead. But he didn’t want to deal with that now. He sprinted the last twenty yards to his house and slammed and bolted the door. Not that a bolted door could stop the—

“Namjoon? What’s going on?”

Namjoon jumped and turned, almost certain he was seeing another monster.

It was just Taehyung.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just went out for some fresh air. Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it? I don’t want to be late for”—

“I’ll wake you up, don’t worry.”

Taehyung blinked, sighed, and flopped back down on the bed. Namjoon watched him until he was sure he was asleep, and then slowly lowered himself to the floor. The book slid from his hands. He could feel the cold, slimy presence of the Thing, the Voice, the…

He put his hand under his shirt and felt for the source of the pain. He half expected to find a deadly wound, to find he was only alive because he hadn’t yet realized he was dying.

Of course, there was no wound. The devil wanted souls, not lives.

Namjoon had his deal. He would get out. His knowledge would be of use, and poverty would not stand in his way. He would be able to help Taehyung, really help him. Maybe even get him out of his abusive home.

And then?

Then he would die.

He shuddered. He had asked. and the Voice had answered. Before he could hurt anyone with this knowledge, he was going to die.

He wondered if his father was dead.

Surely they would have told him.

But he hadn’t heard anything in weeks.

As for dying himself?

He’d help as many people as he could first. His soul would not be lost in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Few Notes:
> 
> \--Thanks again to Becca for her beta reading and encouragement and listening to all my vague hints and complaints as I've worked on drafting part three.
> 
> \--Six of the seven* have now made their POV debuts. What do you think about them? Do you feel your bias is represented well (again, from the BU perspective)? Are there any characters you feel drawn to more than others?
> 
> \--*Total honesty, I don't have much from Seokjin's POV until much later in the story. This is not because I don't love him (I love him a lot). It's due to the fact that his character knows too much and if we were in his head WE would know too much. I still want to retain some sense of mystery, hehe.
> 
> \--Things should be back on schedule next week, with the next chapter (primarily featuring Hoseok) releasing on Friday.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	5. Euphoria: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have most of the warnings in the tags, but I feel like I should throw in a couple particular warnings for this chapter:  
> -parents abusing children  
> -mentioned drug use/addiction

“Prize money,” Jae said during their first practice after their win.

“What about it?” Hoseok asked. He gulped some water and sat next to her on the floor. One of the teachers had moved an old standing mirror into the corner of their studio, and when he glanced in it he could see just how pretty the angle of Jae’s jawline was.

“What’s a kid like you going to do with ten grand?”

“New apartment was the first thing,” he said, “Like, one without rats in a neighborhood where I’m not scared to leave Jimin. Or for Jimin to leave by himself, to be honest. We move in on Thursday. Also, like, food.”

She tilted her head, and, gosh dangit, how could she be so sweaty and savage and still look that good?

“Who is Jimin to you?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you related? Dating? Why the heck are you always taking care of him? Where are his parents?”

Hoseok blinked. He hadn’t expected this. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, really. And I say that in the nicest way possible. We’ve been friends for a long while, and he’s going through a rough time, so I’m helping him out.”

“Have to be pretty rough, for you to be helping him out.” That stung a little.

She pulled the pins out of her hair, and it tumbled down around her shoulders. This was unexpected, since they had a good forty-five minutes left in their Tuesday night practice session.

“I bet I can guess,” she said.

“Guess what?”

“What’s wrong with Jimin.”

“There’s nothing wrong with”—

“Tell me if I’m right,” she said, and raised one eyebrow slightly.

His heart skipped a beat. When had he started to think she was beautiful?

“First off,” she started, “He’s sick. Don’t know what with. It’s at least partly psychological, but it’s more complicated than that. His parent’s attempts to help weren’t actually helpful, and may have even been neglectful or abusive. Though how anyone could neglect a kid with that cute of a face, I have no idea.

“Eventually, he ran away to you, his estranged friend from those legendary high school days you’re always going on about. You used your freakish skills of persuasion to free him from his parents. Am I right so far?”

She’d said the whole thing without a hint of emotion. Hoseok nodded.

“One more thing,” she said. “And I really hope you tell me I’m wrong, because I don’t want to know about this.” She leaned forward a little bit. “Jimin came to you as a last resort. If you weren’t an option, he was going to kill himself.”

Hoseok looked at his own reflection in the mirror.

“How’d you know all this?” he asked. “Who told you?”

“My father always told me everyone is born with an everyday sort of magic. Yours is getting what you want. Mine is an uncanny knowledge of human nature.”

“I don’t remember that from when we were kids.”

“It’s not exactly something I spell out for people,” she said, “And it gets stronger the older I get. Why else do you think I chose you for my dance partner?”

“My skill as a dancer?”

“That was just part of it.”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t we be dancing?”

“I can’t. Not tonight. I need to tell you something else.”

He turned back to her.

“Your other friend? The punk who’s stopped by a few times? Who I definitely saw spray painting the back of the studio last week?”

“Seriously? I’m gonna kill the little”—

“It’s a nice picture. I’m not telling anyone. What’s his name?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

“His father beats him.”

“What? No way, he”—

“He has a little sibling?”

“Older sister.”

“She gets more of it.” Now, she looked at the floor. “There’s death in their future, but I think you can stop it.”

“I think you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Hoseok said.

She stood up and tossed him a key. “I convinced the owner you could be trusted to let yourself out. I’ve never paid for studio time, and you won’t either. Also, Jimin wants to learn how to dance, but he’s too scared to ask. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Jae, wait, I”—

But she didn’t wait.

He forced himself to look away from her. To stop thinking about how she looked just as good walking away from him as she did sitting in front of him.

How did she know all that stuff about Jimin? And why did she say all that crazy stuff about Taehyung? Was there any chance any of it was true?

He had no idea.

All he knew for sure was she looked hot as hell in her dance clothes.

He worked his routines for another hour until his mind had pushed all the crazy aside, replacing it with steps and turns and precise control over every muscle, every breath.  
He locked the studio door behind him and headed home.

A drug deal was going down in an alley, but he didn’t look and they didn’t notice him. He almost tripped over a sleeping (at least he hoped he was just sleeping) homeless man in the entryway to his building.

Two more days. Two more days, and he’d never come back here.

His mind flitted back to the moment they’d won the dance competition. The barest hint of a smile had flitted over Jae’s face. Just for a moment, before she gained control over herself again.

That was the moment he’d first found her attractive. He’d have to be really careful or it could become a problem. Sure, things were looking up, but there was no way he could date a girl in his current state. Also, there was no way Jae would ever want to go out with him.

He opened the door.

His chest tightened.

Jimin was sprawled in the middle of the floor, limbs splayed at odd angles.

Hoseok bolted the door and knelt next to Jimin. “Hey,” he said, heart pounding in his ears. He touched his shoulder. Jimin didn’t move. “Hey, Jimin. Wake up.” He shook him lightly.

Jimin’s eyes snapped open and he gasped.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok said, “You’re okay.”

“Where am I?” Jimin asked, words slurring together.

“Home,” Hoseok said. “You must have had a seizure. I was late getting back. I…”

“I don’t remember,” Jimin moaned, “I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything, I don’t…”

“You’re just fine,” Hoseok said. “I’ll be right back.

He went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Jimin’s doctor had sent home a prescription to help Jimin after he had a seizure. Hoseok considered downing one himself before taking them to Jimin. He could use something to calm him. He had a couple pills tucked in a crack behind the cabinet itself, but—

No.

He’d danced.

He didn’t need drugs.

Not tonight, at least.

Jimin was now curled up on the floor, looking more natural and more terrified.

“Hey, think you can stand up?”

Jimin didn’t respond. Hoseok helped him up and let him lean on him as they stumbled to the couch.

“Here, take this,” Hoseok said, and Jimin swallowed the medicine despite spilling half the water down his face.

“God, I feel sick,” Jimin said. He shivered and leaned against Hoseok, his breath on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Just warn me if you’re going to throw up,” Hoseok said, “I do not want to get barfed on again.”

“Again?” Jimin asked, half a laugh in his voice.

“It’s customer service, I tell you. Fricking sucks. Eight bucks an hour isn’t enough for all the crap we go through. Did I tell you about the time when a customer…”

Hoseok rifled through his store of anecdotes as Jimin calmed down. His head slumped over on Hoseok’s shoulder, eyes closed.

Sleeping. 

Naturally. 

Not sprawled on the floor in post-seizure unconsciousness.

Poor kid. How could his parents leave him locked in that cold, bleak hospital room for two years? Alone? When all Jimin wanted was someone to be with him, to tell him he was safe, to distract him from the post-seizure panic until it all faded away to nothing. He wasn’t like Taehyung at all. Whenever Taehyung had a panic attack, he wanted to be alone, no one touching him, no one—

Did Taehung’s father really beat him? Hoseok knew about the kid’s anxiety, but was there a reason behind it? And why hadn’t he said anything about it to any of them?

Nah. Taehyung was fine. He wasn't rich, but at least he had a parent. And a house.

Jae was probably crazy. 

Even if she wasn’t, what in the world could Hoseok do about it? He had enough to worry about with Jimin. He couldn’t save everyone.

###

Yoongi, thanks to Hoseok, had a job. Turns out, Hoseok’s assistant manager had an uncle who had a friend who owned a bar and was looking for someone to play piano a few times a week, and to bus tables some afternoons. Yoongi took it, along with a closet of a bedroom in the home of Hoseok’s coworker’s grandmother. She had a piano in her living room, and he could play it as long as no cats were sleeping on it. If he disturbed any of the cats at any point, he was out.

The manager sent him on a lunch break before he switched from tables to music for the late night crowd. Yoongi started in on his complimentary burger and turned on his phone.

A message from Jungkook: _U doing ok?_

He stood under the flickering lamp on the alley wall, snapped a grainy selfie, and sent it in response. His phone was at thirty percent. He should charge it tonight, but he probably wouldn’t.

The music inside had stopped. Some girl had been playing a mix of bluegrass and classical on a funny looking guitar for the dinner crowd. He wasn’t sure what made the guitar funny looking, or what made her music sound so odd, or why a kid like her was even playing in a bar.

He lit a cigarette. The old lady had given him another lighter. Not everything was so bad, after all.

“When the cook told me you were suicidal…”

He pretended the voice hadn’t startled him, and turned slowly towards the speaker. Of course, it was the guitar girl.

“…I never expected lung cancer was the way you wanted to go,” she finished.

Yoongi considered how to respond. Part of him wanted to cuss her out so she’d go away, but the other part said he shouldn’t get fired on his first day for offending his coworkers.

“What do you want?” he asked instead.

“I want to see your scar,” she said, tilting her chin defiantly. The guitar strapped on her back seemed far too big for her. “Cook also told me you lit your hotel on fire and were probably seriously disfigured, but your face looks pretty nice. Where’s the scar?”

“Kinda presumptuous of you.”

“Presumptuous. That’s a nice smart word. Now show me the scar. Unless it’s somewhere you shouldn’t show a woman?” Her eyes sparkled in the flickering light.

Once more, he considered cussing her out, but…

He remembered. 

_The drunken fog. Jungkook begging him to get help. Throwing a coffee mug at Jungkook, swearing and shouting and…_

He held the cigarette between his teeth and rolled up his sleeve.

“Ohhhh, that’s sick,” she said, but she said it admiringly. “But, like, you lit a hotel on fire. How are you not in jail?”

“Dumb luck.”

“Dramatic, isn’t it? Lighting yourself on fire doesn’t seem to be the easiest way to die.”

“I was really drunk. It was almost an accident.” If accidents could be premeditated.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you glad you didn’t die?”

“You’re a disrespectful punk, you know that?”

“Are you, though?”

She shrugged the guitar off her back and leaned against the wall next to him. “I mean, everyone who survives says they’re glad they did. Right?”

He looked down into her eyes. She looked straight back at him. She really expected him to answer.

“If it was just me, I’d rather be dead,” he said. “But it’s not. I’m not the only one who almost died. My idiot friend cared enough to run in and drag me out.”

“When I thought it couldn’t get more dramatic,” she said. “So, that’s enough? One idiot friend, dragging you out?”

Yoongi nodded.

“How’d you meet this friend?”

“Detention back in high school.”

She nodded. “Good. Okay. As your new friend, I’m going to tell you to put that out and get in to your piano. Boss likes it when new kids are prompt.”

“No way you can call me kid,” Yoongie scoffed.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

She smirked. “I can call you kid! I was just guessing earlier.” She threw her guitar back over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, friend.”

She wasn’t his friend.

He didn’t even want Jungkook as his friend.

Being friends with Min Yoongi was playing with fire no one could control.

Yoongi played the piano that night. He put all his heart into it. As his fingers danced up and down the keys, he knew—at least for tonight—that he wouldn’t change a thing.  
Who needed a soul when there was music instead?

It was moments like these when he realized he really was a monster.

##

“It’s like the world’s tilted, like, two degrees to the left. A pebble in my shoe. One ear plugged up with water, throwing off my center.”

“It’s sometimes like that, when I’m going to have a seizure,” Jimin said. “Think you’re going to fall asleep?”

Hoseok hadn’t realized he was talking out loud. “Narcolepsy has no warning signs,” he said. “There’s something else… off.”

“Maybe we should take a break?” Jimin suggested.

Hoseok didn’t want a break, he was fine, damn it, but Jimin looked pretty tired. They’d done a lot of work today, between carrying all their boxes up six flights of stairs and constructing this secondhand Ikea bunkbed that only had instructions in a language he didn’t recognize.

The new apartment had four rooms, if you were being generous. The bedroom, which really didn’t fit much more that the bunkbed, the main living space, which was pretty spacious, honestly (he could do some dance warm-ups, if they scooted the couch against one wall), a kitchen with two working burners and a full-size fridge, and then the bathroom, which was larger than a closet and therefore an improvement.

Jimin didn’t ask what was wrong. He went into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of juice. He handed one to Hoseok, who was sitting on the couch and staring off into space.

“Do you think Taehyung’s okay?” Hoseok finally asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jimin asked.

“Jae, well... she’s obviously crazy, but she said that his father beats him.”

“What?”

“Crazy, right? And she doesn’t even have any evidence. Just…” He looked at Jimin. “You’ve never told her anything about you, right?”

Jimin’s face went a little red. “No. I mean. You’ve been there for all our conversations. But, I mean, she sees me enough to know there’s something wrong with me, you know?”

“She knew a lot about you. And then she told me that Tae’s father beats him. Says she can read people. But that’s stupid, right? She has to have heard from somewhere. She’s not a freaking psychic.”

Hoseok downed the rest of his juice and started pacing. If Jimin wasn’t here, he’d swallow a couple pills and pass out on the couch until his mind stopped whirring like a helicopter. But Jimin was here, and Hoseok was glad for that, because if he wasn’t, the kid would either be dead or locked up somewhere worse than death.

“You know,” Jimin said, “I think we’ve probably done enough unpacking for the day. You could just run over to his place and say hi.”

“But”—

“It’s just saying hi. It doesn’t mean you believe Jae can read minds or whatever. You could invite him over for pizza, too. Celebrate this new apartment.”

Hoseok collapsed onto the couch and swore under his breath. He didn’t want to go see Tae, but it seemed to be either that or let Jimin know that he sometimes took medication that hadn’t been prescribed to him.

“I’ll go.”

“Bring back dinner, whether Tae comes or not, okay? All we have in the fridge is kimchi and sprite.”

“You got it.”

Just walking out the door was a weight off his shoulders. This was fine. Nothing weird about going to a friend’s house and inviting them for pizza. 

Suddenly, he turned and sprinted back to the apartment. He punched in the code—there was a keypad, not a rusty old lock like at the old place—and leaned in.

Jimin sat where he’d left him, holding his juice and staring at nothing.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Hoseok said.

“Hmm?” Jimin blinked back to the present.

“You’re sick, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, okay? I’ll be back in an hour with Taehyung and pizza.”

Jimin smiled, just barely. “I’ll be here,” he said.

##

He’d texted Namjoon first, in search of Tae’s exact address. Namjoon knew his neighborhood, but not his apartment complex.  
Seokjin, his second try, responded in less than a minute with the exact room number.

Something seemed sideways in that, too. How did Seokjin know, when Namjoon didn’t? Had he just been waiting for Hoseok to ask?

It was May 21. It shouldn’t be this cold, but goosebumbs crawled up his arms. Wrong, crooked, slightly tilting to the left…

The door of the complex was propped open. The building wasn’t as crappy as Hoseok’s last place, so the door shouldn’t have been open. But it was. 

Convenient.

He could just call.

But no.

Tae was a good liar.

He needed to see. To be there. To know.

The apartment number was 572. Just to go up the stairs, collect Taehyung, and head to a nearby pizza joint and—

CRASH

The sound of something breaking.

A scream.

He ran up the stairs. The sound could be coming from any apartment. At his old complex, there were domestic violence cases all the time. People fighting and breaking things. No reason it had to be—

Another crash from somewhere just above. Muffled curses.

He came out on the right floor and ignored the cramp in his side.

Door 572 was hanging open.

The curses were clear now, as was the crying.

He ran in.

The scene seemed to be playing in too-bright colors.

He saw Taehyung first. Just in front of him. Taehyung grabbed an empty wine bottle off a shelf and stepped into the main room.

In that room, a man was holding a girl by her hair, cussing and shaking her as she cried.

Taehyung was going to defend her. 

His sister. 

That was right. 

You have to protect your family.

But—

The set of his shoulders. The tilt of his head. Hoseok could see the rage electrifying his friend.

This would not end well.

“TAEHYUNG!” Hoseok shouted.

Tae paused and looked over his shoulder. For half a moment, Hoseok saw the light in his eyes and shuddered. The anger faded to confusion, and then—

Mr. Kim grabbed Taehyung by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the doorframe. Tae moaned as he slid to the floor. Mr. Kim shouted more curses, kicking at his son.

Glass shattered.

Tae gasped, sharp and high. He struggled to stand.

His father knocked him down again.

His sister sobbed behind them.

Hoseok stood frozen.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. To see this. He might have stopped something awful from happening, but now something worse might happen instead.

“Deal’s always open,” said the voice inside his head.

“I don’t need you,” Hoseok hissed between clenched teeth.

“Okay,” It said. “Watch your friend die, then.”

“I don’t need you,” Hoseok said again, louder. He would… He would…

“HEY!” he shouted, stepping forward.

The man looked up. “What’re you?” he slurred, and the stench of stale alcohol washed over Hoseok.

“Get out,” Hoseok said, not entirely sure what he meant, but entirely sure that Tae wasn’t moving.

“‘Smy house, I can do what I…” he trailed off into smeared-together curse words, the smell of him almost overwhelming, but Hoseok held his ground.

The man threw a punch.

Hoseok dodged and threw his full weight into Mr. Kim’s shoulder.

It had been an impossible chance, but the man pitched forward, unable to catch his footing. He crashed toward the ground, his head glancing off the table in the entry hall. 

He moaned, but did not rise.

Hoseok slammed the door separating the hall from the main room. He was shaking all over, and he stumbled back against the wall. Stars were flying in front of his eyes and he felt a little like he might throw up.

“Taehyung, say something,” he said, hoping he hadn’t been too late, hoping he hadn’t ruined everything, hoping…

“Go… away…” Tae whispered.

Hoseok’s vision cleared, and he saw Tae, curled up on his side where he’d fallen.

Hoseok pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” said Tae’s sister. Seoyeon was her name. She was a few years older than Tae, and had pretty much taken care of the house in the ten years since their mother had passed away.

“Reporting a crime,” Hoseok said.

“We’re fine,” the sister said, “It’s my fault, I got the wrong brand of beer by mistake, we’ll be okay, thank you, but you can”—

“Look at yourself,” Hoseok said.

“I’m fine, I’m okay”—

“Then look at your little brother and tell me this is okay,” Hoseok said, feeling the ice in his voice.

She looked at Taehyung and started sobbing again.

After he’d spoken to the proper authorities, he shot a text to a social worker who’d always been good to him when he’d been at the orphanage.

He looked up. Tae was sitting up, and his shirt was all covered in blood. Hoseok’s heart caught in his throat until he realized the blood was coming from his hand, not his stomach. The bottle must have broken when he fell, and sliced his palm open.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok said. 

Taehyung stared blankly at his bloody hands. 

His sister cried quietly. 

The sirens approached.

##

Jung Hoseok could work miracles. Jimin was certain of this fact after tonight.

Taehyung wouldn’t be a legal adult for several more months, but thanks to Hoseok’s favorite social worker, he was allowed to stay in the custody of his sister instead of being put in the system.

No one had harmed Mr. Kim. He had fallen and knocked himself out after beating his two children. Neighbors testified that they’d suspected it. Tae’s sister admitted this had been going on for years, but she hadn’t known how to stop it. 

Mr. Kim was in police custody.

Hoseok had called a lawyer to defend Tae and his sister in court, and they were nearly certain that Mr. Kim wouldn’t be allowed to see them again. This was the same lawyer who, a few weeks before, had helped Jimin escape from his own hell on earth.

And now?

It was nearly midnight, and Taehyung and his sister were asleep on the lower bunk of the new bunk bed. Tomorrow, they’d consider long-term arrangements, but for tonight, the Kim siblings were safe.

The miracle-worker himself was struggling to unfold the borrowed camping cot in the living room. “Goshdang… didn’t… stupid…”

“Let me do that,” Jimin said.

“No, I’ve…” the cot slammed shut, and Hoseok jumped back. “Damn it!” He glanced at the bathroom door for a few strange seconds, and then back at Jimin.

“You told me earlier,” Jimin said, quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I can unfold the cot. You need to sit down before you fall down, okay?”

Hoseok looked at his hands. They were shaking. He nodded, took one more strange look at the bathroom, and collapsed onto the couch.

Jimin unfolded the cot.

“I can’t believe she was right,” Hoseok muttered.

“It’s a good thing you listened to her.”

“When we were kids, she didn’t have any creepy mystical powers.”

“Reading people isn’t mystical.” The cot clicked into place.

“Whatever.”

Hoseok’s phone rang from the kitchen, where it was charging. Jimin ran for it. “It’s Seokjin.”

“Answer it.”

“Hey,” Jimin said into the phone.

“Put me on speaker,” Seokjin said, and Jimin complied, bringing the phone back into the living room. 

“I heard what happened,” Seokjin said, “How’s”—

Hoseok cut him off. “How,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“How did you hear what happened? Tae left a voicemail for Namjoon, but he’s not off work for another hour. I haven’t called any of the guys yet, and I don’t think it would be legal for your lawyer to talk to you about a case I brought to his attention. So how? Who told you? How do you know anything?”

Seokjin didn’t reply, and the silence was heavy in the air. Hoseok’s foot bounced up and down on the floor.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Seokjin said, quietly. “I’m sorry you were the one who had to save him. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I should have stepped in earlier.”

Hoseok’s foot stopped bouncing, but he didn’t say anything.

“Is anyone there?” Seokjin asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin said.

“I think we should go to the beach tomorrow,” Seokjin said. “You know, like we did in high school? It might sound kinda stupid, after what happened today, but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Jimin said, “I think it’s a good idea. If Taehyung’s up for it, of course. Umm, everyone can meet here in the morning, maybe?”

“Yeah. I can fit us all in my truck, if we break a couple rules.”

“Just like the old days,” Jimin said.

“So, you really think we should?”

“Yes,” Jimin said, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Sure, it sounded like a great idea, but that’s not why he was so definite. 

It was almost like it wasn’t his choice at all.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Seokjin said. “Hoseok still there?”

“He is,” Jimin said, since Hoseok was obviously not planning on talking.

“Hoseok, thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

Seokjin hung up.

Jimin set the phone next to him on the cot and looked at Hoseok. “Can I do anything to help you?”

Hoseok shook his head. He looked like he was about to cry, so Jimin didn't push with further questions. Hoseok stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.

Jimin watched him until he was sure he was asleep. His heart beat faster and faster with every passing minute until he knew it was now or never.

He stood and crept towards the bathroom. A sliver of fear had been working in his brain for a while now, really, ever since the first full day he’d spent in Hoseok’s house, but after today—

After tonight—

He needed to know.

They hadn’t gotten around to unpacking the box of bathroom supplies yet. Most likely, all this stuff would just stay in the box until some day when Hoseok was at work and Jimin was so bored he resorted to cleaning. Jimin pulled open the box and started digging through it.

Most of it was just odds and ends. A few mismatched towels that definitely belonged in the kitchen (or the trash), a variety of mostly-empty cheap shampoo bottles (he should definitely take some time next week to consolidate them), and two bottles of pills.

One was Jimin’s seizure pills. He opened the bottle and counted them. He’d taken two since leaving the hospital, and the right amount remained. The second bottle was Hoseok’s, which supposedly helped his narcolepsy. Jimin had no idea how many should have been in the bottle, but he’d researched the medication last time Taehyung had let him play with his phone. It seemed to be mostly a placebo, with maybe a touch of a calming benefit—no way it could get you high.

There was nothing else sketchy in the box.

He shook his head and smiled at himself.

This was ridiculous. No way Hoseok was on drugs. He was just a little hyper, that’s all. He was just—

But… maybe…

There was a cupboard under the sink.

Jimin opened it.

Was that something, back in the corner, next to the pipes? He reached for it, and—

He was out in the living room.

Hoseok was snoring softly.

He shook his head.

What had he been doing, digging through the box in the bathroom?

Brushing his teeth before bed. Duh.

Hoseok looked cold, so Jimin tucked a blanket around him. Then he took his own blanket and laid down on the cot.

They were going to the beach tomorrow. All of them. Just like old times.

As he drifted off, he wondered why his mouth didn’t taste like mint. 

Why else would he have been digging through that box in the bathroom, if he wasn’t looking for his toothbrush?

Ah, who cared? Sleep was imminent, and he hadn’t seen the ocean in two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -woohoo thanks for reading!! Any thoughts or feelings on characters and plot? 
> 
> -I mostly would love to know how people feel about Jae? She has a basis in BU canon but... I've expanded on her character a lot.
> 
> -there are seven chapters in part one, which means just two more! Chapter six is a touch short (2300~ words) but since both six and seven are so dramatic, I've decided to post them separate weeks instead of combining.
> 
> Until next Friday!  
> -ForForever42


	6. Euphoria: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Which Jungkook Makes a Deal
> 
> (bit of a shorter one this week)

Yoongi had never found girls very interesting. Honestly, he hadn’t found people very interesting until he was thrown in detention with six particular kids who somehow seemed to get to him. 

Music was the one and only love in his life. He’d given his soul for it, and that was that.

But now, he was finding that he didn’t hate it that the guitar girl—Jandi was her name—followed him outside every time he had a break. She even seemed to be there on days she wasn’t working. 

Between yesterday and today, her hair had changed from faded blue to a dark purple streaked with red. They’d been talking about the influence of Beethoven for the past twenty minutes, a subject Yoongi never thought he could have a two-person conversation about.

“To be honest, music is all I lived for for a long while,” Jandi said. “Me and this guitar against the world. But it’s not enough, you know?”

“Music is always enough,” Yoongi said.

“Liar,” she said. “You know it isn’t.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, but she didn’t continue, either. She just kept staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Okay. I guess. But life without music isn’t worth living.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “I hope I never have to find out, but I like to think I could find beauty elsewhere.”

Yoongi snorted. “Really? You think anything could compare with music?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. Anyways, I don’t think there’s any way I can lose music unless I’m dead.”

“What if your hands got cut off?” Yoongi asked.

“I could sing,” she said, “Or do some sort of funky percussion. Maybe get on one of those talent game shows, showing that no hands won’t stop me from sharing my song with the world.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Do you play anything else?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Why?”

“Piano’s all I need.”

“Do you sing?”

“A little. Not really. Distracts from the music.”

“But I’ve heard you play pop songs. Why do you play them if you don’t sing?”

He paused. “That’s a long story.”

“You have eight minutes,” she said.

He didn’t want to tell her. But she was looking at him in that way that made him feel like maybe he did want to tell her, just to see what she would say back.

“So, Jungkook wanted to learn piano. But I didn’t really use sheet music when I met him, and all the books I had at home were stupid hard. So I got him a book of radio favorites for him to practice with. It mostly ended with me playing and him singing.”

She smiled. “That’s freaking adorable.”

“That’s not the word I would use.”

“Of course not. It’s the word I use. I know your type. You, in high school? Probably looked down your nose on any piece of music that didn’t come from your own head or was three hundred years old. And then you find a friend and suddenly you’re playing, I don’t know, Shawn Mendes and Ed Sheeran. It's adorable.”

“Whatever,” he said.

“Wonder what I could make you play,” she said, her eyes glinting in the light of the streetlamp.

“I have no idea and we’ll probably never find out.”

“Aw, come on, we should”—

She paused, and looked over his shoulder.

##

Jungkook shivered, even though it wasn’t cold.

Yoongi wasn’t picking up his phone. That didn’t mean anything was wrong. Yoongi had never really clicked with the twenty-first century. He’d let his phone die and not think about it for days. Even back then, when they’d been happy, it was rare to be able to contact him via any sort of texting or social media.

Still, Jungkook could taste the wrongness in the air.

He glanced at the flickering sign above the entryway to the bar. A paper reading “no minors permitted” was pinned to the door, so he ducked into the alley. There had to be a back entrance, and he could sneak in and follow the music to wherever Yoongi might be.

No sneaking was necessary. He saw Yoongi standing beneath one of the flickering lights on the side of the building. Was he smiling? It was hard to tell around the cigarette in his mouth. Why was he smoking again? What was he smiling at?

Jungkook saw her and froze. A girl with a guitar leaned against the wall next to Yoongi. She was short and cute and more than that, Yoongi was smiling at her.

This was not expected. Jungkook didn’t know how to react. He just stood there, frozen, trying to think back to a time in high school when Yoongi had even spoken to a girl, much less stood so close to one, and looked so happy, too, even as he was ruining his life with those blasted cigarettes.

“Jeon Jungkook? Is that you?”

Drat. No time to slip away and process.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi continued.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Jungkook said.

“I guess it died again,” Yoongi said, and shrugged. “Hey, what happened? Come here.”

Jungkook stepped into the light. He let his eyes glance up from his shoes, and he looked at the girl. Her hair was dyed and she was even shorter up close.

“Lee Jandi,” she said, “I’m twenty-two, if you were wondering. Nice to meet you at last.”

Jungkook nodded but didn’t say anything. _At last?_ What did that mean? She wasn’t one of them. She didn’t need to know anything about him.

Yoongi’s last hint of a smile faded, and he crushed out his cigarette. Jungkook regretted coming. Yoongi had been smiling, had been happy, and now Jungkook had come and he wasn’t anymore.

“Jandi, could you leave us for a minute?”

The girl looked between Yoongi and Jungkook. “This is the friend, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, this is him,” Yoongi said.

She looked at Jungkook, straight into his eyes. “Thank you,” she said. She picked up her guitar and wandered back into the bar.

“What happened?” Yoongi asked, urgency in his voice. “Is anyone”—

“Everyone’s okay. Now, at least.”

“So you came to see me because…?”

He wanted to say _Because I miss you,_ but that wasn’t why he was here.

“Taehyung’s father was arrested,” he said instead.

“Wait, what?”

“For abusing his kids.”

Yoongi swore.

“He might have hurt Taehyung real bad,” Jungkook said, “Might have killed him, even, if Hoseok hadn’t stepped in.”

Yoongi swore again, and pulled out another cigarette. Jungkook just watched him light it.

“What happens now?” Yoongi asked, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

Jungkook shrugged. “We’re all going to the beach tomorrow,” he said, “To cheer him up. Like we did, back when we were in school together.”

“I’m not”—

“Yoongi, please,” Jungkook said. _I can’t do it either, not without you._ But he didn’t say that.

“I guess I can see if Jandi will cover my shift,” he said. “But how are we getting there?”

“Seokjin’s going to drive us.”

“Seokjin? Why?”

“Don’t ask me, okay? We’re just supposed to meet at Hoseok and Jimin’s new place at ten tomorrow. Will I see you there?”

He nodded. “What about you?”

“Well, of course I’ll be there, I’m the one telling you about it.”

“That’s not what I meant. Are you okay?”

“Me?” Jungkook smiled. “Of course. I’m fine.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Taehyung would have said the same thing yesterday.”

“I’m really okay,” Jungkook said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Yoongi looked at him again, and—

That almost-memory—

_Slipping. Falling. Air rushing around him so fast he couldn’t scream. Crunch of his bones. Red everywhere, everywhere, and—_

Back to reality.

“Tomorrow, then?” Yoongi said.

“Tomorrow,” Jungkook replied.

##

Yoongi was okay.

Taehyung was okay.

All of them, all seven, would be together. Tomorrow. For the first time in years.

Why did everything still feel wrong?

Was it because the world knew about Taehyung’s father? That they were going to protect him, while the monsters in Jungkook’s house still ran free?

No. That wasn’t it. Jungkook could face anything, now that they were together, now that they—

_Sharp pain, the crunch of bone and metal and glass—_

The vision-memory again. Only, different. Glass and metal. He wondered if he should talk to someone about this. It couldn’t be normal, to keep seeing yourself (or your friends) die in imaginations so vivid they felt like memories.

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow, it would fall apart, wouldn’t it? Because that was a memory, too. Even though it was tomorrow, he knew he’d been there before.

Something was wrong with Seokjin. With Taehyung. With Yoongi. And tomorrow—

He paused and looked up. A crane loomed on top of a nearby skyscraper. He hadn’t realized he’d walked so far, or even in this direction. It was nearly two am. His mom had certainly called the night school by now, and realized Jungkook had left hours ago and still wasn’t home. She’d be furious.

He climbed the fire escape anyways. The answer was here, and he knew it. This was the point where everything had gone wrong.

No.

This was where it had all gone… right?

His heart pounded faster with each metallic step.

He should be dead. With every flight he ascended, he knew it more and more. That was what was right. Jeon Jungkook, slipping and dying on the pavement. Accident or suicide, no one knew. No one cared. Him, dead. That was right.

He came out onto the roof.

He could jump. Die. Would that fix…?

Another almost-memory hit him.

_Yoongi, rushed out of the ambulance and into surgery. Burned all over. His heart stopping. The doctors tried to save him, but…_

The memory was false, but the moment was right.

Yoongi should be dead, too.

Jungkook wouldn’t let that happen.

There had to be another way.

He stood on the edge of the roof and remembered what was real. The flames surrounding Yoongi as Jungkook dragged him out of the hotel. Still breathing. Alive. Okay except for the scar on his arm.

He looked out at the sky.

He trembled, because he knew what was happening.

“How can I fix this,” he whimpered. He sounded pathetic, but there was no other way for it.

“What are you willing to give?” The Voice that answered was like ice water dripping down his spine. It crackled with malice, coming from somewhere just to his left.

He turned.

It didn’t look evil, not at first. Just like a cat. Not even a stray cat. A nice, fluffy one. Well-fed and well-groomed.

“You want to end their misery, hmm?”

Jungkook didn’t reply. This was danger. Playing with the nature of reality.

“Smart one, are you? Tell me what you want.”

“No,” Jungkook said.

“They’ll die or go mad if you do nothing. You know this.”

“Tell me the rules, first,” he said.

“You are a smart one,” It purred, “Okay. Step one: Tell me what you want. Step two: Tell me what you will give. Step three: We review the deal. Step four: All your dreams come true.”

“That’s not all,” Jungkook said.

“Okay, okay. Step five: There’s always a catch. But it will be in the deal and will be inherently agreed upon.”

This was wrong, and he knew it. But he also knew, if he didn’t…

“I want them to live,” Jungkook said, “To live full, normal lives. I want them to be happy. Not like, magically happy. Normal happy.”

“A tall order,” the crawling Voice said. “Let’s see if the going price fits your budget. What will you give?”

“My life,” Jungkook said.

“So sacrificial,” It said, maybe with a hint of annoyance?

“You agree?” Jungkook asked.

“Yes, let’s”—

“Even with my catch?”

The cat’s eyes snapped towards him and he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second just from the hatred in that gaze.

“The catch?” the Being said, and Jungkook knew he’d won.

“You agreed they will be happy,” Jungkook said, “And if they will be happy, I can’t just die.” The pressure was unbearable. It took all he had to force out the next sentence. “They have to forget me.”

The Thing didn’t speak for a few moments, but Jungkook felt It. Weighing through the options. Regretting Its haste, the fact that It had let Its victim take the reins and direct the deal.

“You already said yes,” Jungkook said. “So I think we’re done here.”

“Let me phrase it one more time,” said the Voice. “No secrets.”

Jungkook didn’t have any.

“You will die,” It began, “And as soon as I've taken you in the land of the dead, no one will know Jeon Jungkook ever existed. Your frineds—the six of them,” and he named them, “Will live happy, natural lives, dying peacefully sometime after the age of seventy-five. They will not remember you.” Anger came back to the voice. “This is true, for you made the catch before I did. But I am still a god and you are still a mortal. You deceived me, and you will be punished.”

“Can’t get much worse than dying and being forgotten.” Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, even though his heart was fluttering and stars were flashing in front of his eyes.

The voice changed. Became sweet and thick, like maple syrup. “You will taste it,” It said. The cat-like shape was gone, and now there was only the suggestion of wrath. “Happiness. For a brief time, you will know what you’ve given them. What you will never have. You will die in agony and no one will remember your name.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jungkook said.

The cloud of evil hit him. A small pain inside his chest. 

And then he was alone.

Jungkook had made a deal with the devil.

He touched his face and wasn’t surprised at the tears running down it.

They were going to be happy.

He was going to die.

But before then, he would see the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> -in my working draft, I've reached 130,000 words, and I'm maybe a quarter of the way through the story XD  
> -I started myself a tumblr (@ForForever42) so I can scream into the void about the emotions I feel while writing and, like, fangirl over kpop to my heart's content. This quarantine really got me reliving the glory days of 2014. Not sure if that's a good thing or not... but what else is there to do?  
> -Next week, we'll be finishing up Part One, and saying goodbye to BTS for a bit. TXT gets their introduction in Part Two: Nap of a Star


	7. Euphoria: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Which we have our first glimpse inside Seokjin's POV. Also, everything goes terribly wrong, but did you expect anything else?

“Taehyung’s on the roof. You should go see him.”

Namjoon didn’t want to be here. If he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t have come. But he didn’t have a choice. Not after what he’d done.

He should have known. Hell, who was he kidding—he had known. But he’d also known that there was nothing he could do, which was why he’d made the deal, but nothing had advanced his fortunes yet, and so Hoseok…

Hoseok had saved Taehyung from…

Not from dying. 

No. 

Taehyung wouldn’t have died. 

_He would have killed._

How did he know that?

It didn’t matter. Taehyung was safe. Alive. Not a murderer. The least Namjoon could do was show up.

He clomped up the stairs to the roof, and then changed his gait. Walk lighter, idiot. College students don’t walk around like they have the weight of the world on their backs.

He laughed at himself. He was never going to be a college student, whatever the deal had said. But still, he walked lighter.

Coming out into the sunlight, he saw Taehyung. Someone had abandoned an old couch cushion, and Taehyung was sprawled out on it, an arm thrown over his eyes. 

Once upon a time, it had been like this. When Namjoon had had a house and a family. Tae had been over all the time, just to hang out. They would come up on the roof and stare at the stars, waiting for one to fall so they could wish on it. 

Namjoon had wished his father would get better. 

Tae had wished the same thing.

“Your dad’s sick, too?” Namjoon had asked.

“Not like yours,” Taehyung had responded, and they’d left the subject at that.

Today, Namjoon walked towards his friend. “Yo, Taehyung!”

Taehyung opened his eyes and smiled.

##

Hoseok sat in the passenger seat next to Seokjin. Everyone else had scrambled out of the car as soon as they parked, everyone except the two of them. The day was overcast, and there was a pressure in the air.

Seokjin stared blankly through the windshield.

Hoseok was on the verge of telling Seokjin what he’d done. Last night. After a nightmare of rats eating his eyes had woken him.

They both started talking at the same time.

“Sorry,” Seokjin laughed. “What were you saying?”

“No, you first,” Hoseok said, tapping his fingers against one leg. 

“I think I’ve done it,” he said.

“Huh?” Hoseok asked.

Seokjin smiled at him. “Look. We’re all together. Everyone’s alive, and if nothing else, Jimin’s smiling.”

Hoseok looked. Tae was chasing Jimin down the sand, and they both jumped as the cold waves rolled over their bare feet. Both of them were laughing, or screaming, or both. 

Yoongi was definitely laughing at them. He stood well out of the water, and didn’t notice Namjoon creeping up behind him until Namjoon had splashed a handful of water on the back of his neck. Yoongi swore, but not in a mean way, and half a second later everyone was after Namjoon.

“Everything’s perfect,” Seokjin said, “Or, it will be, if I don’t mess it up again.”

“You haven’t messed anything up,” Hoseok said.

“If only,” Seokjin said, a distant grin on his face. “So, what were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” Hoseok said, “That we should get out there, before they have all the fun without us.” 

It was a pathetic lie, but Seokjin was obviously not paying attention.

“Good plan,” he said, and grabbed his camcorder. “Let’s go.”

Confession would ruin everything. Best to just keep it to himself. He could deal with it. He didn’t need anyone’s help, and more than that, he didn’t need anyone to worry about him.

He was fine.

##

_The Night Before_

Yoongi plugged his phone into the charger as soon as he got home. The moment it had turned on again, he called Jungkook.

“Yeah?” Jungkook answered.

“You at home?” Yoongi asked.

“Almost. Just a couple more blocks.”

“It’s been like three hours,” he said.

“I know, I got lost, I was just kinda wandering.” Jungkook’s voice sounded off.

“Shouldn’t do that, this late,” Yoongi said.

“I know,” Jungkook said.

“You’re okay, then?”

“Yeah. You’re really coming tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook still didn’t believe him, and it hurt.

“Well, I see my building. I should go. Thanks for checking on me.”

“No problem, kid. See you tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

Yoongi sat on the piano bench until dawn. The old lady had gone out for the weekend with one of her boyfriends, and he was alone with the cats. All five of them. Kinda gave him the creeps.

He stared at the scar on his arm and contemplated the nature of his curse. The price he had to pay. The price… maybe he’d already paid?

Jungkook had raced into a burning building and had, in fact, saved him. Jungkook was not badly hurt. The burns on his hands had healed entirely in two weeks. Since then, he’d been fine. Yoongi hadn’t avoided him, really, at all since April 11th.

Maybe the curse was over, and all that was left was the blessing. It made sense. He’d already lost so much. It certainly had to be enough.

He was going to the beach tomorrow. He was going to be Jungkook’s friend. Hell, he was friends with all of them. He didn’t have to be afraid of that.

He didn’t have to be afraid of new friends, either. 

_Today_

Jungkook’s face had lit up when Yoongi had walked into Hoseok’s apartment. Half an hour late, maybe, but he’d made it. They were all still chatting and deciding what sort of food they should take with, and it felt so much like nothing had changed since two years ago.

Now, they were at the beach. Taehyung and Namjoon were playing volleyball against Seokjin and Hoseok while Jimin kept score. Jungkook and Yoongi had been eliminated from the competition earlier.

“Did you SEE that spike from Kim Seokjin?” Jimin shouted like a sports announcer. “Taehyung’s knocked it back—Hoseok continues the volley—Namjoon misses by a hair!”

He looked behind him and saw that Jungkook was wandering off towards a dock a little further down the beach. 

He turned to follow, and then paused. Should he? Or would the curse—

No.

He wasn’t cursed anymore. It was over. He’d paid the price for the music in his soul.

He followed his friend out onto the end of the dock, and sat down casually next to him. Jungkook was staring out over the waves. The clouds had really blown in, and the breeze coming off the waves was cold.

“We really suck at volleyball,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook smiled a little, but kept staring at the ocean.

“Now, maybe if it was basketball,” Yoongi continued, “We could have beat them. Remember that time, back in school, when we…”

He went on, sometimes talking about the good old days, sometimes talking about random things that had happened in the past week, sometimes just staring out at the sea as the waves rushed in with the tide.

At last, Jungkook spoke. “Are you happy?” he asked.

“Umm, what?”

“Now. Today. Are you happy?”

Yoongi stared out at the horizon. “Umm, yeah. I guess I am.”

“Me, too.”

“You don’t look very happy,” Yoongi said.

“You’re not going to try and kill yourself again, are you?”

“Nah,” Yoongi said.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Yoongi said. He tried to look at Jungkook’s face, but Jungkook was staring away from him, out toward the sea.

“Because I might not be able to save you,” he said, with a catch in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, “I promise. I… well. Life sucks, you know? But I think, right now, that dying would suck more.”

Jungkook nodded.

They stared out at the water until they saw Hoseok wave to them from the shore.

“Guess it’s time to move on,” Jungkook said.

##

Kim Seokjin had nearly succeeded.

This was the last step.

The six of them were here. On this pier. His friends. His brothers. The ones he had to save.

Once again, it had been Hoseok’s idea. _Go look for the rock._ One Hoseok remembered, from when he was little. And, as it had played out twice or three times or four times before (it was so hard to remember the details), there was no rock. There was simply this pier. An old dock on an old beach where no one had been for years.

On the end of the pier, there was a rickety sort of diving tower. He wasn’t sure what sort of person would dive off the edge, especially during this weather. This wasn’t a swimming beach. Too stormy, every time he’d been here. But then again: he’d only been here on the same day. May 22nd. Maybe, later in the summer, it would be beautiful and clear.

He honestly didn’t care. All he knew was that Taehyung was sitting and laughing with Namjoon and Hoseok. Seokjin stood a little behind, filming them. In a previous loop, he’d discovered someone had to go up the tower. So, as Hoseok started recounting one of those stories he was so good at telling, Seokjin started to climb.

In the last loop, Seokjin had been distracted in trying to keep the mood light. So distracted that Taehyung had climbed up and jumped to his death, staring right at him as he did it.

Not today.

Today, he reached the top and slowly stood. He pointed the camcorder down at his friends. It was a fantastic shot, the stormy lighting giving it a great mood.

They spotted him.

Taehyung frowned.

A weird shiver went through Seokjin. Muddy memories pressed at his consciousness. Like this, exactly this, had happened before and the glass had still shattered.

The wind stopped.

“Seokjin!” one of them shouted. “Get back down here!”

Confusion flooded him. He’d messed something up again. It would all shatter again, it would be April 11th, it would…

“I don’t want to do this,” an old Voice whispered in Seokjin’s head. 

No. Please. It’s going to be…

He started to turn.

CRACK.

Seokjin had a quarter second to register the wrongness of the sound before he was falling, falling, falling in the midst of broken boards.

His breath froze as he hit the water.

He hadn’t thought it would be him.

Not this time.

He’d tried so hard to protect the others, but had not considered that Death might once more come for him.

##

The tower broke.

Seokjin’s scream echoed amidst the cracking wood.

Yoongi swore.

Panic broke out. Shouting from everyone. 

Everyone except Taehyung.

He stared at the place where Seokjin had gone under the waves. A strange, sick joy was flooding over him. This was what Seokjin deserved, after meddling in affairs that weren’t his to deal with.

Seokjin’s head popped out of the water. Too short a time to get a proper breath before going under again. He’d drown in minutes, and then everything would…

Taehyung remembered…

Forgot…

Who was he? Was he a monster, or…

He kicked off his shoes.

Heard Namjoon scream, “Kim Taehyung!”

Yes. That was who he was.

“Don’t jump! You’ll just”—

Namjoon’s words cut off as the water closed around Taehyung. The water bit his skin, seemed to freeze his heart. Too cold for the end of May. Too cold for anytime.

He came to the surface and saw Seokjin’s arms desperately flailing some twenty feet away before the waves crashed over him. He thought back to swimming lessons in middle school, and one stroke at a time, pressed towards him. 

Slower than he needed to. He told himself this was because if he tried to save Seokjin while he was in a panic, they’d both drown. But was that just the monster talking?

No time to think. Just swim.

He fought the last few feet, his arms already feeling like lead. Seokjin wasn’t moving. He grabbed his arm, threw it around his neck, and started dragging Seokjin back towards shore.

Seokjin was probably dead. The evil inside of Taehyung had probably killed him. Still, he fought. Time still went on. That had to be a good sign.

He looked back towards the dock. It seemed impossibly far away. Another wave crashed down on him, and he felt his lungs would burst as he kicked back to the surface. The deep cold was in his bones. The water would win soon.

A life preserver landed a few feet away. Where they’d found one, he had no guess, but he didn’t care. He wrapped one arm through the loop and held Seokjin with the other. The waves pulled them down once more.

##

Jimin stopped panicking. In fact, a sort of calm fell over him. It was not the right time to feel so perfectly at ease. A few feet away, Namjoon was holding Taehyung as he coughed up saltwater and gasped for breath.

The rest of them were gathered around the still form of Seokjin.

“God, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Hoseok said.

A steady stream of curses came from Yoongi.

“What do we do? He can’t be dead. Come on. Wake up!” Jungkook screamed, brushing the hair back from Seokjin’s forehead.

“I know,” Jimin said. “I know what to do.”

No one stopped him as he knelt next to Seokjin. He turned his head to the side and felt his throat. No pulse.

He’d never done this before, but he’d read plenty on the subject. Drowning was a tricky way to die. He’d wanted to know the likelihood that he’d be revived.

Revival wasn’t very likely, he had to admit. Not even likely enough for him to consider a different method when he was considering his own death. But it was a chance.

He pressed his hands into Seokjin’s chest. Over and over again. Counting out the beat.

“No,” Taehyung gasped, “No, he’s gotta be fine… Come on…”

It wasn’t long, really. Half a minute of trembling fear, and then water poured out of Seokjin’s mouth. He gasped and coughed and threw up more water.

Hoseok burst into tears. 

“Come on,” Yoongi said, “Say something.”

His face still lying on the dock, Seokjin gasped, “I’m alive.” With Yoongi’s help, he sat up, shivering, a rasp in every breath. “How?”

“Taehyung… jumped in… saved you,” Hoseok said around sobs. Jimin, no longer needed by Seokjin, went to Hoseok and put an arm around him.

“And you weren’t breathing, but Jimin made you start again,” Namjoon said. “Quick thinking, kid.”

“We need to get to the hospital,” Jimin said, “Taehyung and Seokjin could still both die, if they don’t get proper treatment.”

They stumbled back to the car. Hoseok was the only one besides the near-drowning victims who knew how to drive, and Jimin sat next to him. In the back seat, Taehyung leaned against Seokjin, and Namjoon watched them both, listening to their breathing. Yoongi and Jungkook were in the bed of the truck, lying flat so as to avoid being caught by any cops. Definitely the least comfortable place in the vehicle, but also the most fun.

“You’re pretty incredible,” Hoseok said, his voice still unsteady.

Jimin didn’t argue with him. Time would show him the truth.

The seizure hit him when they were halfway back to the apartment that night.

##

Jungkook walked out of the hospital and into the cool evening air. He’d suspected that Yoongi had come out here, and he was right.

“You’re going to die if you keep smoking,” Jungkook said.

To his surprise, Yoongi ground out the cigarette.

“So,” Yoongi said, “First time back together since high school, and two of us nearly died. Also, found out I’m just as bad at volleyball as I was back then.”

“You might be worse.”

“So are you.”

“That’s the truth.”

They stared out into the dark parking lot.

“Good day, overall, though,” Yoongi said, “I mean, I would have liked it better if Jimin wouldn’t have had to show off his CPR skills, but…”

“They’re going to be okay,” Jungkook said.

“Yeah.”

If they went on the roof, the stars would have been beautiful. But if you looked long enough, they were pretty nice from down here, too.

“You’ll all be okay,” Jungkook said.

“And you, too?”

“Of course.”

A cloud blew over the moon.

“You don’t have to go home tonight,” Yoongi said.

“But I’m already late and”—

“Look,” Yoongi said, “I know today was all fun and wild and scary, but I can’t forget yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Yesterday.

The bandage wrapped around Tae’s palm.

“I know Hoseok could get you out, too.”

“I don’t need out,” Jungkook said. “My stepfather isn’t like Tae’s dad.”

“Whatever, man.”

The silence lasted for several sweet minutes. Jungkook wished it could go on forever. But, of course, life was too short for that.

“Next weekend,” Yoongi said.

“Huh?”

“You have school and I have work all week, but next Saturday we should hang out. Maybe at Namjoon’s place, if he’s off, or we can find a rooftop somewhere.”

“Maybe. If you don’t let your phone die and forget.”

“Can’t make any promises with the first part, but I won’t forget. In the case that I feel my phone is irrelevant, let’s plan on meeting at Hoseok’s burger joint at noon?”

Jungkook smiled. “I guess. The food there is garbage.”

“Exactly. But I can almost guarantee Hoseok will give us a deal, and, like, terrible food is perfect sometimes, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook said.

“I’ll invite the rest of them, and whoever comes, comes. It’ll be great.”

“It’ll be great,” Jungkook repeated.

Yoongi pushed off of the wall and stretched. “If you ever decide not to go home, there’s room at my place. Not much. But you’d be safe until we could figure something else out.” He looked Jungkook in the eyes.

Jungkook couldn’t say anything, so he just nodded.

“See you next weekend, kid,” Yoongi said. He slouched off across the parking lot. Jungkook heard the click of a lighter. Saw the soft orange glow as he lit another cigarette.

His hands shook.

He wanted so badly to run after Yoongi. Shout his name. Yes. Yes, he’d stay with him. Yes, he’d get out of his family's house.

_Yes, I sold my soul to save you._

But he just watched as the flicker of light faded into black, Yoongi’s outline disappearing into the night.

Yoongi couldn’t really want Jungkook to crash on the floor of his rented room. Yoongi had a job, and music to practice, and, well, there was that girl in the alley. If they weren’t dating yet, they would be soon. She was cute, she played music, and she didn’t seem to be afraid of Yoongi.

And Jungkook?

He wasn’t anything.

That’s why he’d done it. That’s why he’d given it all so the others would be happy.

He pushed his mind to a brighter place and made himself start walking. 

Not home. 

Not yet.

Today had been a good day. Even the not so good parts. Though he’d been terrified they’d both die, watching Taehyung jump into the ocean to save Seokjin—well, that moment would be with him forever. And for a moment, when he was sure his deal was a lie and Seokjin was really drowned, and Jimin brought him back… That had been something, too.

The drive home. Lying in the back of the truck next to Yoongi, wind whipping around them and the clouds far above. Waiting in the hospital until the doctors told them their friends would be okay. Dr. Lee from the trauma wing had even come over to ask what the hell they were all doing there again.

Jungkook stepped off the curb, deep in his memories.

Lights blinded him.

Time slowed.

He couldn’t see clearly what was about to hit him, but he heard the engine.

Pain exploded through his body as he hit the hood of the car—

Crunching of metal—

More pain as he slammed the pavement—

Tires squealed and the engine faded into the distance.

Jungkook stared up at the moon. He tried to scream. His mouth was full of blood. He choked and spat out enough to breath and…

Why was no one helping him?

Where was he?

Why couldn’t he get up?

Why did it hurt so bad?

He clawed at the pavement, trying to get a grip, but it was like his legs were made of wood. He couldn’t move. Pain screamed through his chest. Blood choked up his throat.

His eyes were wide open, but black closed in around him.

“I don’t want to die,” he tried to say, but only heard a gurgling moan. He coughed and felt the blood run hot down his face.

“We agree on something,” said the Devil. “But if you knew how much more living would hurt, would you still wish to live?”

The stars shrank into black, and all he saw was the moon. His mouth was full of blood and his head was full of flies and he couldn’t speak and he couldn’t breathe.

“Fortunately,” the Voice slithered in his head, “You already made your choice.”

Darkness closed over Jungkook.

##

Death. Satan. The Grim Reaper. Osiris. The Pale Horse. And…

He would not name the last title. He had stolen them all, stolen them rightly, and no one would take them from him. Still, he sometimes feared the Shape of that final name. Feared what it might do, if he couldn’t stop the Shape of it first.

As long as he owned this power, he would play. Human souls held such value, yet how willing the mortal children were to trade with them! Oh, how sweet to watch them suffer. Over and over and over again.

This latest deal had pained him, but, in the end, he was still on top. It didn’t really matter that the boy—this useless boy—had taken the catch. He would still die, and the others were so tangled in their own tricks and deals that they would probably die first, that is, if the time loop ever ended…

It probably wouldn’t.

He’d get to see this a dozen more times.

The boy, Jeon Jungkook, hovered between worlds in the ICU. Just a small, pathetic teenager. Death reached out, and the monitor flatlined. The hospital staff went into high gear. As if anything they did helped anything. Pathetic.

He drew back his finger, and the boy’s heart started again. 

He would live. 

It was too soon to finish this deal.

The new Death would watch him suffer.

He wandered away from the now-paralyzed dealmaker and wondered why his servants hadn’t yet found the Child. The one who bore the Shape. They’d killed the last one quickly, but it had been thirteen years since the blood of the Chosen had drained into the earth.

He was not much afraid. He had taken the titles. Death. The Devil. The Pale Horse. Yes—he did not need fear it—even Arawn, yes, he could even claim that name. They were simply titles, and they all belonged to him.

Abraxus, they had called him in the Midworld. Unknowable, cruel, and cunning, the all-seeing one. He'd been shamed and hated, but now had grown strong. Had killed Death. Was no longer a monster of the twilight, but a god. 

The near-dead boy would suffer for the trickery in his deal, and when the time came, Death would have him.

And the Chosen Child? The one who now bore the Shape of Arawn? 

He would never grow up, just as the ones who had preceded him.

Abraxus was Abraxus, and no being, whether mortal or not, could touch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Part 1: Euphoria. We'll get back to Jungkook and the gang in about a month. In the mean time...
> 
> Part Two: Nap of a Star begins next Friday, ft. Huening Kai, a lonely student who sometimes sees monsters in the shadows.


	8. Nap of a Star: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we introduce Huening Kai, Taehyun, Beomgyu, Soobin, and Yeonjun.

Part 2

Nap of a Star

_I am a light sleeper  
But I am a heavy dreamer.  
My imagination gives me wings  
And I can go anywhere._  
-Lucid Dream, Owl City

Chapter 1

Nearly ten million people lived in Seoul.

Eight years ago, two of those people had been killed in a car wreck. 

Their only child had gone to Busan to live with relatives.

Now, due to his uncle making partner at a law firm in Seoul, Huening Kai was back in the city. 

New school. New neighborhood.

Same friends as when he left.

“You remember,” he said to his aunt after the first day, “My friends from before?”

She dropped a spoon in the sink. “Which friends?” she asked, carefully, but Kai was too excited to notice her tone.

“Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu, and Taehyun. The ones I…” he paused, and scrunched up his face. His aunt turned off the sink. “The ones I played in the forest with,” he finished quietly.

His aunt dried her hands and sat next to him at the kitchen table. “Kai,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and leaned forward on the table, “I forgot… I guess I… but they just looked so familiar, and I… I forgot.”

Sadness caught in his chest, and frustration, that he could have been so caught up in the day that he forgot. 

_Again._

His aunt put an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, “If it’s too hard, just tell us. Uncle had another offer in Busan, and it’s still open. We could go back.”

“I know. But I’ll be okay.” He tried to force a smile into his voice. “Just gotta fight the crazy a little harder, right?”

“You’re not crazy, Kai. Talk to your doctor about it next week. And… these kids, the ones you thought you recognized? They were definitely real?”

“Yup, definitely,” he said.

“You should talk to them,” she said. “Introduce yourself. Just because you don’t know each other yet, doesn’t mean you can’t become friends. Here.” She handed him a kleenex. He hadn’t realized there were tears in his eyes. “Now, want to help me fry the rice?”

After dinner, Kai went to his bedroom. It was smaller than his room in Busan had been, but it was enough. He took down the poster of his favorite band and looked at the drawing behind it.

He knew he shouldn’t have drawn on the walls. When they eventually moved, his Aunt would be upset and would have a quiet conversation with his doctor when she thought he wasn’t listening. And then she’d tell Kai that she was so proud of his drawings, and that she’d love to get him lessons. She’d give him new pencils and a sketchbook, and hope that this time, he’d keep the drawings where they belonged.

The sketchbooks were great. He’d filled several of them. But they were too flimsy, too portable. Not connected to the earth. He needed this picture, the one of his wings, on the wall of his room.

Because without his wings, who was he? 

In reality, this was who he was: A boy who had survived the car wreck that killed his parents. Who had sat in his car seat screaming for nearly an hour, and watched as they went from dying to dead, their blood soaking the seats and the floor.

When the emergency crews showed up, they said it was a miracle he’d survived.

And then there was the _reason_ their car had crashed through the guardrail and wrapped itself around a tree.

He’d told them, as soon as he could speak again. They’d sent him to a psychiatrist, who said the story Kai told was perfectly reasonable. A traumatized child would certainly try to make sense of the cruelty fate had handed to him.

After all these years of counseling, he knew that there couldn’t have really been a monster in the middle of the road. No dripping fangs and six glowing eyes. He knew there wasn’t a magical forest where he met his friends and played amongst true starlight.

But he also knew he’d left the Gate open, and that’s how the monster came out. Even after eight years of therapy he knew this just as much as he knew the recorded facts:

That his father had drank a little too much, and driven a little too fast, on roads that were a little too slick.

##

At school the next day, he thought about introducing himself to Kang Taehyun. They were in the same year, and had two classes together. But as he watched the other boy, trying to get up the courage to talk to him, he realized that Taehyun didn’t seem to notice him. Which was weird, because Taehyun seemed to notice everything else.

A freshman girl sat next to him at lunch, an American with blonde hair and glasses. “You want to know about Kang Taehyun, it seems,” she said.

Kai didn’t really know what to say to this, but the girl glanced at him and continued anyways. “He’s the bookie,” she said, “Wanna make some quick cash betting on school gossip, you hit him up.”

His aunt certainly would not want him to befriend a kid who ran a gambling ring. That was something that could get you expelled. 

##

Choi Beomgyu was next, in order of age. Just a year older. You knew from looking at him that the kid wasn’t involved in anything even slightly nefarious. He was always sort of hunching his shoulders, and staring at his feet.

Three times, Kai tried to talk to him, but every time he got close, it seemed that Beomgyu had vanished into thin air, only to appear a moment later on the opposite side of the room. After fifth period, he watched the sophomore literally jump at his own shadow.

On the bus, the same American girl sat next to him. Her blonde hair was in two long braids.

“Choi Beomgyu is a coward,” she said, “He had friends, once, but sold them out after the smallest threat. So no one likes him anymore, for good reason.”

“Why are you”—

She didn’t let him interrupt. “He’s gotten the crap beat out of him a few times. Went to the hospital for a full week once last semester, but he was too scared to say who hurt him. Got his nose broken, too, at one point. At least, if rumors are to be believed.”

She immediately flipped out her phone and started playing a game. Kai stared out the window until they reached his stop.

##

Soobin was easier to corner. One of the most popular daily wagers was “How long will Choi Soobin stay in the library today?”

The library was on the third floor of the main high school building, and Soobin was in the furthest-back study room. Stacks of books in several languages stood precariously on a desk, and Soobin himself was drawing a complicated shape on the chalkboard. He had headphones on, and Kai could hear the blasting music from where he sat. Kai watched him for a while, and eventually sat down in a rickety chair.

It was mesmerizing, watching the chalk drag across the board, leaving precise yet speckled lines and shapes. Soobin began a shape that looked like a cat, but slowly, the image morphed into something more unnatural. Maybe even monstrous.

Soobin sighed, and reached for a pair of reading glasses that rested near the books.

He saw Kai and started, pushing his headphones off his ears.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and stepped towards Kai. A twinge of fear hit Kai. He stood and bowed and realized how small he was. He should get out of here, just run, just go. He should.

He remembered Beomgyu jumping at his own shadow.

Kai wasn’t a like that.

“Do you remember me?” Kai asked, without hardly knowing what he was saying. He just knew he had to say it.

Soobin paused. “I’ve seen you in the halls,” he said.

“No,” Kai said, voice steady, “A long time ago. We… we played together. In the forest. And because we were together, we weren’t afraid of… of the monsters.”

This was not what his aunt had meant when she had told him to introduce himself, but with the art on the board and the strangeness in the air, he had to ask.

Soobin stared at him, hard. A half smile hinted at the corner of his mouth. “I remember something, what was it…”

Hope like he hadn’t known in years hit Kai.

“That’s right,” Soobin continued, and his tone shifted. The hope in Kai turned to dread. “My mother said a new kid was transferring. A kid with mental problems. Borderline psychotic. Even spent time in a hospital for it. She said I should be careful, with someone that unstable in my school.”

Soobin looked him over, and Kai shivered. “But I don’t think I have to be afraid of you, because you’re going to get out of this library and never talk to me again. Go.”

Kai turned and ran. His heart thudded against his ribs and he could hardly breathe. He felt as if his head was glass on the verge of shattering with ever pounding step he took.

The school halls were dark, and for a moment, he lost his way. Every turn seemed the same, and he could almost hear a clicking sound on the linoleum behind him, like a hundred scaly legs tracking him down, chasing him, and if he stopped it would be on him, and—

He stopped.

“There are no monsters,” he said. He turned around, knees knocking together, shivering so hard his teeth chattered.

For a moment, he pictured a giant millipede rearing up in front of him. Legs wiggling, fangs dripping venom.

And then the hall was empty and silent.

He saw the way out, the pale evening light shining through the doors.

He ran for the exit, tears running down his cheeks. The cool night air hit him and he gasped it in. Did everyone know? He hadn’t thought it would matter that much. His doctor said he was doing really well. Only sometimes he had delusions or believed things that weren’t real.

But maybe it didn’t matter. 

He was crazy and everyone knew it and that’s why he had no friends and never would.

“Whoa,” said a voice behind him, and he jumped. It was the girl, the one with the long braids. She pushed her glasses further up on her nose. “If I thought he’d get to you that bad, I’d have warned you earlier.”

Kai turned away, even though she already knew he was crying.

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” she said, “Choi Soobin is too lost in his own head to think about anyone else. You’ve not the only kid to run away from him crying.”

Kai sniffed.

“Come on, the bus will be here any minute.”

She sat next to him on the bus. He had no idea why. He’d stopped crying but his eyes were still red, and if everyone knew he was crazy, well, she shouldn’t be associating with him. 

If she knew, it seemed she didn’t care. He stared through his reflection out into the night, and she talked.

“No one can tell me why Soobin is so stuck up,” she began, “He stays super late in the library every day and then goes to night school. People leave him alone. And now, here’s a warning: don’t even try with Choi Yeonjun.”

He flipped around to face her. “What?”

“Yeonjun is your next target, right?”

“How’d you”—

“Just listen. Choi Yeonjun. Any normal person wouldn’t want to be friends with him. Juvenile delinquent, as they say. Spent three weeks in a correctional facility last fall after reportedly starting a fire at his night school. Rumor has it that he’s the one who’s graffitied the school walls, and he’s also responsible for a good deal of physical violence. He was thrown out of his last school for beating up a student, and after the whole suspected arson thing, if he messes up one more time, he’s not going to graduate. Probably will turn eighteen in a jail cell.”

“Sounds like a train wreck,” Kai said.

“Very nearly.”

“Can I ask a question now?”

“Yup.”

“How’d you know he was my next…” he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish.

“Target?” she suggested, with a hint of a grin. “You’re new, and, for some strange reason that would confound most people, you decided to try and befriend four seemingly random boys, only one of which is in your year. I say most people would be confounded, because I’m not most people. While I am a little confused, I'm mostly intrigued.”

She sat back and pushed her glasses up. “See, I’ve been watching them, too. They aren’t normal. Not like you and me. Sort of, well, odd, in a way I can’t really describe. 

“Very few normal people have the desire to look deep into life outside of what they know. I’m fascinated by them because normal life is boring, but you, on the other hand…” she looked at him, “You think you’re like them.”

Kai blinked. This was a lot to take in.

“You aren’t,” she said, “You’re perfectly human, like me.”

The bus stopped. “Come on,” she said, “You get off here.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

“And they aren’t?” he said, stepping down to the curb.

“At this point, I’m ninety percent sure they’re aliens.” She grinned.

Okay. It had started out interesting, but she was crazier than he was. He shook his head and turned towards home.

“Also, you don’t have to look so hard for friends!” she called after him, “They could be right in front of your eyes, if you just looked!”

It didn’t hit him until he reached his building.

Could she really want to be his friend? 

She wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but she seemed nice, and he liked how she talked. Even if she was crazy.

He wondered what her name was. Tomorrow, he’d ask her.

##

On Friday, however, fate seemed to be against him. He only saw her a few times, and every time he did, it was the worst moment to try and talk to her. Either class was about to start, or her lunch table was already full, or she was talking to someone else.

Probably she already had friends. Probably she didn’t want to talk to him. But… what she’d said last night… 

He just had to open his eyes. She’d made all efforts of friendship so far, and it was his turn.

After the last bell, he was really going to do it. He saw her, walking across the field, face glued to her phone. If he jogged, he could catch up to her and they could take the same bus—

Fingers dug into his shoulder and he was dragged away from the door. He barely had time to gasp before a hand clapped over his mouth and nose.

His heart pounded as the much-stronger person dragged him down the hallway. He couldn’t get enough air. Why was no one stopping them? Saving him? His shoes skidded on the linoleum. His stomach turned, and he thought he might be sick, and he couldn’t breathe, and—

“Caught him,” said his captor. The voice of a student.

“Good,” said another voice, dull and emotionless.

Kai got his feet under him. Fear pounded in his head. They weren’t covering his eyes but he still couldn’t see a thing.

“Put him on the table,” said the dull voice.

No no no…

“D-do you r-really think we should do this?” said a third voice, getting a grip on Kai’s arms, “What if he talks?”

So there were three people here. His initial captor, the guy with the creepy voice, and the nervous one.

“He’s delusional, remember?” said the dull voice. “They won’t believe a word he says. You see things all the time, don’t you, kid?”

Clarity rushed through Kai’s veins. His vision cleared, and he saw the boy in front of him. Wearing their school uniform. Maybe a senior, at least a junior. There was no emotion on his face. In his left hand, he held a letter opener.

Yeah, no one would believe Kai. This scene was crazier than the idea that there was a secret forest full of monsters and starlight.

The two kids behind him started to lift him. He felt the grip on his right shoulder slip, and using all his strength, he kicked backwards.

He caught one of them in the stomach. He gasped and dropped Kai, and Kai wrenched his arm out of the other boy’s grip. The boy with the letter opener jumped forward and swore, but Kai was already running.

He didn’t know where he was. The school had become somewhere else, it seemed. Hall after hall of offices and classrooms, none of which he knew. 

He thought he heard them behind him and dodged down a flight of stairs. There was a cramp in his side and his vision blurred as he continued through another hall and down more stairs. His shoulder blades ached strangely.

He burst through a door into a dimly lit room.

There was no way out. No way he could run anymore, either. He ducked under a table and tried to breathe.

They’d find him. He knew they’d find him. And when they did, they’d kill him. They’d cut him open and…

No. That was ridiculous. They’d hurt him, definitely. But they wouldn’t kill him.

How bad would they hurt him?

How did they know he saw things that weren’t there?

He’d only been at this school for a week and, instead of making friends, he had upperclassmen chasing him with knives. Now he was crying for the second time in as many days.

Eventually, the tears stopped. They always did, given enough time. 

He hadn’t been found yet.

He smelled chlorine.

He crawled out from under the table and beheld the swimming pool in all its glory. It looked like one they’d have in the Olympics, yet here it was, underneath his nothing-special Seoul middle-and-high school complex.

“I didn’t know they had a pool here,” he mumbled to himself.

“Me, neither,” said a too-familiar voice.

Kai jumped and turned. His shoulder blades ached with that strange pain again.

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, thought you saw me earlier… I, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The voice belonged to one of his captors. The one he’d kicked.

The face belonged to Choi Beomgyu.

It took a moment for Kai to find his voice. “Why?” he said, at last.

“He said he’d hurt me if I didn’t. But it wasn’t right and I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’m so sorry.”

Anger flared inside Kai. So much that he wanted to hit the kid cowering against the wall. Only… no. He didn’t really want to do that. But he didn’t want to be Beomgyu’s friend, either, and especially didn’t want to be here, trapped in a dimly lit pool room with him.

He turned and looked at the exit stairs. “Are they still looking for me?” he asked.

“No. They went home,” Beomgyu said. 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Beomgyu jumped to his feet, backing up next to Kai. “I swear, it can’t be them, I saw them…”

“Shh,” Kai said, and thought about diving back under the table, but it was too late.

Two figures came into the room.

“I said others would already be here,” said one of them.

“But who are they, and why do I care?” said the other, and Kai’s heart skipped a beat. Soobin. The two of them stepped into the light, and he saw that the first boy was Yeonjun. He smirked when he saw Kai.

Beomgyu shuddered. “Wait… why… oh, god…” He covered his face. “I knew there was something wrong.”

There was a sound from the other side of the pool, and they all turned towards it. “Now that I’ve gathered you all here today,” the voice echoed across the water, “Let me make some introductions.”

The figure’s face remained in shadows as he walked towards them.

“Choi Yeonjun, who has never set a fire. He has, however, broken someone’s nose, which has got to count for something. Choi Soobin doesn’t want to study, but there are louder places to spend your free time than the library or night school. Choi Beomgyu never wants to get hurt, but hurting people instead doesn’t seem to be working out very well for him. Huening Kai spent a month in the psych ward last year”—heat flooded Kai’s face—“But I believe he’s the sanest of us all.”

“And you are?” Yeonjun asked the shadowy figure.

“Kang Taehyun,” Kai answered for him, as Taehyun came into the light and slowly took off his sunglasses.

“Pretty quick on the uptake, kid,” Taehyun said, with a smile at Kai.

“We’re the same age,” Kai responded.

“He has three months on you,” Soobin said.

“Are we all going to keep pretending we don’t know each other?” Beomgyu said.

“So, why am I here?” Soobin said.

Yeonjun kicked over a plastic chair and pressed his hand to his forehead. “Taehyun said if I brought you, he’d tell me why I have this bloody awful headache all the time. I brought him. I want answers.”

“But aren’t you a little curious…” Taehyun started.

Yeonjun slammed his fist on the table. Beomgyu yelped. Soobin flinched. “Answers. Now,” said Yeonjun.

“…as to why there’s a well maintained pool at our school yet no swimming program?” Taehyun finished, as if Yeonjun hadn’t said a word.

“You were seriously selling me out to this loser?” Soobin scoffed.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” Yeonjun said.

The argument escalated. Beomgyu sat down again with his head in his hands.

Kai turned away from them and walked towards the pool. Taehyun was right. This was the question they should be asking: Why was there a pool?

Kai leaned on the metal bar of one of the ladders and stared into the still water. He’d been right about them all being connected. Maybe… maybe the other memories were real, too.

He kicked off his shoes and slowly started to step down the ladder. The water was cool but comfortable. As it soaked through his clothes, it sort of felt like it was soaking into his soul, as well. A little like when he was stressing out about something and his aunt gave him a hug.

The water reached his chin. The feeling of being almost home enveloped him.

“Look at Kai!” he heard Beomgyu yell as his head dipped under the water.

He opened his eyes despite the chlorine, expecting to see something. Anything.

But it was just a pool.

That was perfectly fine, wasn’t it?

He popped his head out of the water and looked toward the others. They’d stopped yelling and were all staring at him.

“Water’s great!” he shouted, “Come on in!”

“No way in hell am I getting in that pool,” Soobin said, but Yeonjun and Taehyun grinned and each other, then grabbed his arms and dragged him in. Beomgyu was only a step behind them, and the wave crashed up and over Kai.

He didn’t know how long, exactly, that they were in the water. Kai felt like he was six again, playing dumb games like Marco Polo, and Dead Man, and who could make the biggest splash. Kai won the last one, despite being one of the smallest.

All good things had to come to an end, but that was to be expected. Soobin was the first to climb out of the pool and not jump back in.

“We’re going to get in so much trouble,” Beomgyu said, scrambling up onto the side.

“So what?” Yeonjun said, grabbing his leg and pulling him back in again. “Tell me this hasn’t been the best day of your life for a long time.”

Beomgyu smiled a little.

“Umm, guys?” Soobin said. “Are you seeing this?”

They all looked at him. He’d put on his glasses and was staring at the far end of the pool.

Kai followed his gaze. He saw only the dim ripple of the water.

“It’s a… door?” Taehyun said, uncertain.

“Should we go through it?” Beomgyu asked.

“I doubt we’ll be able to open it,” Soobin said, but he slid back into the water and swam over to them. “There’s got to be too much water pressure…”

They all swam to the place above the door. At least, the place where Kai assumed the door was. He hung back as Taehyun dove under the water.

Yeonjun touched his shoulder, and Kai started. “Do you see anything?” Yeonjun whispered.

Kai wanted to say yes. He really did. But he didn’t feel like he could lie to Yeonjun.

“No,” he whispered, “But I know they do.”

##

Choi Yeonjun had always known he was a freak. Even in this group of outcasts, where he felt strangely at home, he was still different.

It was a relief that Kai also couldn’t see the door in the bottom of the pool. But Kai, well. Kai had chosen to be here, instead of being chosen to be here. 

It was different, when you had a choice.

Though he did not see it, there was a doorway in the bottom of the pool. He trusted the others and followed them down.

An old ache of magic ran through his veins. He remembered this. Running beneath the stars, the truth of who he would be buried deep beneath the innocence of childhood. He was new-chosen, then. The thought of being special was beautiful.

There was a forest on the other side of the pool. They stepped down into the cool of the trees. In a few seconds, he noticed his clothes were dry. The water belonged to the other world, and had not followed them here.

Magic seeped from everywhere. He smelled it. Tasted it. Felt it piercing his skin and oh, so gently, flowing through his veins.

Of all worlds, this one least belonged to him. Was that what made it so appealing?

Yeonjun had been human for the first few years of his life. Belonging firmly to the Overworld, the world of light and facts, where everything was solid and explainable. As normal and healthy as a kid could be.

And then a crown had fallen onto his head. He had not asked for it. Had not wanted it. Back then, he didn’t think he could stand beneath the weight of what it meant, so he lost himself in this sweet world of magic and faeries and not-quite-humans.

Now, he knew for a fact he could not stand the weight of it. 

Could he lose himself again? Would that do any good, now that he was nearly an adult?

Humans nor gods belonged in this forest they had entered, but it appeared monsters did. It also appeared that it might be a very good place for hiding. He kept this fact in the back of his mind.

His head had stopped hurting. The absence of pain did not make him feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo we've made it to part 2!! I'm posting two chapters today, because part 2 chapter 2 isn't super long, and I just feel like I should give y'all a decent amount of content as we continue with a totally new set of characters that have never shown up in the story before, never, not once (or have they?? hehe).
> 
> If you're confused about anything, please ask. Though I've gone over these chapters a million times myself for continuity/grammar/character, they haven't been beta read as the Part 1 chapters were.


	9. Nap of a Star: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reference for those who might not be familiar with all of the American high school terminology I use throughout this story, despite the fact that it is definitely not set in America:  
> Freshman: 9th grade, 14/15 years old  
> Sophomore: 10th grade, 15/16 years old  
> Junior: 11th grade, 16/17 years old  
> Senior: 12th grade, 17/18 years old.  
> (All ages listed throughout my story are international, not Korean, because continuity is hard and I'm trying not to make it any harder than it has to be to keep things straight in my brain :P)
> 
> Without further ado, the chapter:

It was real. The woods and the magic and the great campfire and his friends, his real friends, and—

Huening Kai woke up.

There was no time between. Soobin had just stated that they should probably head back to reality, and—

Opening his eyes in his own bedroom.

He drew his quilt up to his chin and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he could go back, but the dream was gone.

Every detail he remembered was like stabbing a thumbtack into his own skin. His shoulder blades ached, as they did more and more these days, but his heart hurt even worse.

He had so hoped it would be real.

Finally, he shuffled out of his room and into the kitchen. He hadn’t cried, but it had been a close thing. “Aunt,” he said, “I don’t think I’m going to school today.”

“Of course you aren’t,” she said, “It’s Saturday.”

He tilted his head, “What?”

“Saturday!” she exclaimed, “Best day of the week! We’re going to…” She studied his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She crossed the room towards him and lifted his chin.

He still didn’t cry. “I had a nightmare,” he said. It was only half a lie. The dreams where his parents were alive and loved him were always worse than the ones where they died.

She hugged him. “I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Want to watch TV?”

He nodded.

“Go get comfy. I’ll bring you a hot chocolate.”

Kai sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. His Aunt brought him a warm drink. They turned on a Marvel movie. He didn’t really know which one.

His mind kept turning. He played through every event of the past week. If it really was all a dream, where Friday had gone?

##

“So you said you think they’re aliens?” Kai asked, and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Almost certainly,” Song Mia replied.

“And you think this why, exactly?”

This was their fourth lunch together. She’d caught his arm as soon as he’d walked in Monday morning, and apologized for not seeing him Friday. She’d had several exams throughout the day and had to rush off to night school as soon as the bell sounded.

“I have feelings about people,” she said, and sipped her juice. “These kids are special because they don’t feel like people.”

“That’s weird,” he said, “Do I feel like a person?”

“Yes.” Short and definitive, but somehow, he wished she would have said no.

“I had a dream,” he said, “Or, well, I’ve _had_ a dream. Lots of different times. Mostly when I was little. But, anyways, I’m friends with the four of them and we play in a magical forest together.”

“That’s interesting,” she said, “Is that what drew you to them?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Most of the dreams happened when I was little, but the latest… What are you doing?”

She’d started scribbling on her napkin. “Mia, intuition. Kai, dreamer. Two sides of the same coin, together at last.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m a little crazy sometimes.”

“So am I.”

They finished their lunches in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. And through it, a question was building inside Kai, something that should be so easy to ask, but seemed like such a big deal.

“Do you want to come to my house after school?” Kai asked as she started gathering her things.

She smiled. “You want me to come to your house?”

“I was thinking, I don’t know, we could play a game or something, unless that’s weird.”

She shrugged. “We’re friends. Is that what friends do?”

His heart beat faster at the word. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had a friend before.”

He expected her to laugh.

Instead, she said, “Me neither.”

“So you’re coming?”

“I can’t tonight. I have night school Thursdays and Fridays, and I skipped last Thursday, so Mom will kill me if I skip again.”

Darn.

“I’m free Monday, though,” she said.

“Monday sounds great,” he said, smiling.

He was so distracted the rest of the afternoon that his math teacher made him stay late and clean up the classroom. It didn’t much matter. He had a friend, and she was coming over to his house, and they were going to have fun together. 

When he was finally dismissed, he paused in the doorway leading out of the school. He’d half hoped that maybe she was still at the bus stop, and he could ride with her and talk to her before she got to her night school. But the grounds between the school and the stop were empty.

He needed to calm down. Monday would come. Friendships were easy, casual things. She’d probably come over more than once. Maybe they could go bowling sometime, or see a baseball game. 

A step sounded behind him and a hand clamped over his mouth. Deja vu washed over him like a wave.

“You won’t escape this time, loser.”

He forgot to be afraid even as his shoes struggled to find traction as he was dragged down the hall.

This time.

This had happened before. Six days ago. And if this wasn’t a part of the dream, then he must have really escaped and run to the pool and—

He was slammed up against a chalkboard. Kai gasped, but no air came in. He kicked, like he had last time, but it didn’t work. There was only one upperclassman holding him, and it wasn’t Beomgyu.

“Stop fighting,” said another voice. The dull voice.

Kai listened. Struggling was getting him nowhere, and air was finally returning to his lungs. He looked over the shoulder of the guy holding him and straight into the face of the dull-voiced boy.

He didn’t look like a bully. When he wasn’t talking, he didn’t look scary at all. He was a little taller than average, with an average build and average facial features and a haircut that at least half the boys in school had.

“Let me go, and I promise I won’t say anything,” Kai said.

The kid holding him laughed.

“I won’t let you go,” said the guy with the letter opener, because, of course, that was real, too. “And you still won’t say anything. Get him on the table.”

This time, the one kid on his own managed to throw Kai onto the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, knocking the wind out of him again. As his breath came back, he begged, “Stop—please—I’ll—they’ll expel”—

“They won't expel me, because they'll never know. You won’t tell on me, because you have too much to lose. Your sweet auntie finds out you got hurt by a classmate? You’ll be back in Busan so fast your head will spin.”

Anger flared up in Kai. Who was this guy, thinking he could blackmail him? As the boy with the letter opener leaned over him, Kai spit in his face.

The boy froze. “Back in Busan without your little girlfriend.” He pulled back and wiped off his face. “You don’t care much about the girl part, do you? Psycho boy is so desperate, he’s okay with any sort of friend. Even an American freak who has nothing going for her except that blonde hair.”

Kai wanted to fight, but he couldn’t move.

“And so, you will let me hurt you, tonight and any time I choose, because you have a friend and you don’t want to lose her.”

Kai laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. This was all wrong. All wrong. But he knew, he knew, he knew he couldn’t go back to Busan. It was pathetic, but he’d, well, he’d do almost anything to stay here, right? That was crazy. But he was crazy. At least, that’s what they told him.

The letter opener scraped down his forehead with a sharp pain. Hot blood seeped up and leaked into his eye.

He could take this.

He stared at the ceiling. He pictured Mia coming over to his house. Playing card games. Watching movies. Eating dinner with his aunt and uncle. They’d love her.

“Did that not hurt?” his tormentor said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

It had hurt, for a moment. 

But not anymore.

He remembered watching an American crime drama with his uncle. Kai knew English pretty well, but not perfectly. 

“Uncle, what’s that word mean?”

“Context, Kai. Look at the context. What do you think it means?”

“The killer… he hurts people for the fun of it. Is that it?”

“Yup. Sadist: someone who gets pleasure from inflicting pain on others.”

He stared at the ceiling, but felt as if he were staring down from it. He felt cold as ice.

“Feel this, psycho,” the boy—upperclassman—sadist said.

The letter opener scraped across the bridge of his nose. Tears slid out of the corners of his eyes, but they felt cold compared to the blood. Also, he wasn’t sad, or scared. 

He wasn’t even really here at all.

This wasn’t a new feeling. Dissociation, they called in in therapy. A coping mechanism you developed to deal with trauma. Funny. This was traumatic? Yes, objectively. Having your face cut by a sadistic upperclassman was traumatic.

Said upperclassman was yelling now. Something about how it had to hurt. Why wasn’t Kai screaming? Why was he just lying there, staring at nothing?

Answer: because he was nothing, not really. Simply stardust floating through the atmosphere, and you couldn’t hurt stardust.

The upperclassman pulled him off the table. Him? Was Kai him? He felt nothing but the cold of space.

Stars flashed in his head as his body slammed against the chalkboard.

Why would he scream when he couldn’t feel anything?

And then someone else screamed. The kid who’d held him down. He was scrambling backwards out the door, hand clamped over his nose, blood oozing through his fingers.

Kai’s body slid to the floor and his consciousness started to descend back into it.

He couldn’t believe the scene in front of him.

The letter opener slid under a bookshelf. 

The bully was getting beaten up.

“You’ll get expelled,” the guy said in his creepy voice, blood staining his teeth.

“We both know know you won’t do that, unless you want expelled as well.”

“They won’t talk, I made sure”—

“I don’t care what they do,” the newcomer said, his back towards Kai, “I will talk. And I can guarantee that the moment one of your victims speaks, they’ll all come forward. No matter what dirt you supposedly have on them.”

This got to the upperclassman. He swore in his monotone. 

“I will get you,” he said, “And I will hurt you.”

“Give it your best shot,” said the newcomer said. There was something familiar about the tone of his voice.

The bully turned and ran, and the newcomer—also an upperclassman—flipped him off as he disappeared into the hall.

And then he was in front of Kai.

“Stand up.”

Kai couldn’t.

“If you can’t stand, I’ll call an ambulance. But you don’t look too bad.”

He reached out a hand, and Kai took it. He stood, swaying a little. There was a flash of concern in Choi Yeonjun’s eyes—

Because the kid who’d just saved him was Choi Yeonjun.

“What did he do to you?”

Kai, fully himself again, felt the hot blood on his face.

He started to cry.

##

“Sorry. I’m. Just.” The kid rubbed paper towels over his eyes and sniffled. “I’m trying to stop… but it was… like…”

“You’re cool,” Yeonjun said. “Getting caught by Baek Hyunjin is flipping terrifying. He’s the worst. It’s okay to be upset.” He opened the first aid kit as Kai—that was the kid’s name—splashed water on his face again.

Yeonjun found some disinfectant and some bandages and looked up. Kai wasn’t crying anymore, thank goodness. He was staring in the mirror at the cuts on his face. They weren’t too deep. They had stopped bleeding already. 

But how messed up did you have to be to do that to a kid?

“What should I tell my aunt?” Kai said, taking the disinfectant wipe Yeonjun handed him. He cringed as the alcohol stung the cuts.

“Do you have to tell her anything?”

“Yeah, definitely. She’ll ask. And so will my doctor.”

“You don’t need to see a doctor for a little cut like”—

Kai’s face flushed, and Yeonjun paused.

“Oh,” he said, “You mean, like, a shrink?”

“I’m not crazy,” Kai said.

“Yeah, you are,” Yeonjun said. “But it’s okay. I am, too.”

Kai closed his eyes, and Yeonjun began putting the bandages over the cuts. Just tiny ones, probably not needed. It seemed to make Kai calm down, though. 

“It’s real, isn’t it?” Kai asked.

“What?”

“The magical forest. We went there when we were little. And again last week. Under the pool.” Eyes still closed, but as though he sensed Yeonjun’s agreement, he asked, “There are monsters there, aren’t there?”

Yeonjun didn’t reply. He put the last bandage on and turned Kai towards the mirror, hands on his shoulders. “Open your eyes. Good as new.”

Kai opened his eyes.

The lights flickered.

The worlds shuddered and blended.

“Oh my goodness!” It was such a sweet exclamation. Childlike. Innocent. Kai taking in his own image in the mirror, with the feathered wings shimmering behind him. “Just like my drawings! They are real!”

He didn’t notice the monster behind him. 

The monster with Yeonjun’s face and horrific horns coming out of his head. 

Yeonjun shuddered and jumped back, afraid of shattering the wonder in front of him. He stumbled out of the bathroom and down the hall, revulsion crawling up his throat. He tried to push the image from his mind, certain he’d be sick if he saw it again, if anyone else saw it, if anyone knew what he truly was, if—

“Yeonjun! Yeonjun, wait!”

Against his better judgment, he stopped.

Best to face it now.

“Did you see it? Please tell me you saw. That I’m not hallucinating.”

Kai’s wings were gone. All that was left was the look of excitement on his face. Likely the horns were gone, too, and Kai hadn’t seen them.

“Your wings?” Yeonjun said.

Kai smiled even wider. “It was real! I can’t believe it!” The kid was actually jumping up and down.

Suddenly, he stopped. Tilted his head.

“Did you see anything else?” Kai asked, his voice quiet. “Why’d you run away? Did you see any monsters?”

“No,” Yeonjun said, but they both knew he was lying.

Kai crouched in front of him. “Do I need to be afraid?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Yeonjun said. He ran a hand through his hair just to make sure he looked human again. “We’re safe for now. But not forever.”

Kai stood up and straightened his shoulders. “But we’ll be brave, right?” 

He offered a hand to Yeonjun, and Yeonjun took it. They started towards the staircase, towards the exit. “You’ll have to be,” Yeonjun said.

“Maybe I can draw you a set of wings, too?”

“I don’t think so,” Yeonjun said, “I like to keep my feet on the ground."

Ground. Earth. On it. Not above it. Or under it. Or between it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the shift from BTS to TXT. I feel like the tone is lighter in the TXT chapters, especially the early ones, but both storylines are part of the same (incredibly long and increasingly intertwining) Story.
> 
> Nap of a Star: Chapter 3 will be posted next Friday, July 17th.


	10. Nap of a Star: Chapter 3

On Saturday, Yeonjun woke up feeling lighter than he had in a long time. He didn’t realize why until he was nearly done with breakfast.

His headache was gone.

He’d been five when the headaches first started. Just around the time when he’d first found his way into the forest. Just when he began to realize that a great evil had settled in his soul.

Its severity came and went. Once, when he was thirteen, it was so bad he couldn’t even sit up. He’d made the mistake of telling his mother, and for the next six months—even once it had settled back to the usual dull ache—she’d take him to the doctor almost every week, demanding that they test for brain tumors.

Of course, there were no tumors. His vision was perfect. No vitamin deficiencies or chemical imbalances. 

It was simply the pressure of a dark crown he’d never asked for, and no doctor could detect that.

He watched television as he ate. Some news program, nothing big or important, talking about the financial crisis in some of the poorer neighborhoods. He had no desire to watch the news, but his mother believed it was bad luck to turn off the television, so it was always on. Yeonjun thought she probably liked the constant chatter. Sometimes, she even talked like the news reporters could hear her.

She walked into the main room and smiled at him. “You’re such a sweet boy,” she said, smiling. No one else thought that, but Yeonjun didn’t correct her. 

“Is it a special day?” she continued.

“No,” he said. It was just a Saturday. What was she getting at?

“When you were little, you’d dress up like that all the time,” she said.

Dress up? Was she having a delusion? He was just wearing his pajamas, watching TV and eating cold cereal. The exact opposite of dressing up.

“And then you’d run off to play with your little friends,” she said, turning to re-wash the dishes in the drying rack.

Yeonjun shivered.

“I’d call you my little deer. But when you grew up you thought it was babyish.”

A lump was forming in his throat.

“I’m so glad you’re old enough not to mind anymore.”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, trying to make his voice light.

He stayed with his mother the rest of the day. Never leaving the apartment. Never opening the windows. Talking about old times. Watching the soapiest drama ever for three hours in the afternoon, laughing at all the melodramatic moments.

He waited for darkness to come.

At eight in the evening, he said, “I might have to go away for a few days.”

“Oh?”

“I need to go… somewhere. And you can’t tell anyone.”

Her face went pale. He hated doing this, but he had no choice.

“Are you in trouble?” she asked.

He nodded. “But I’ll get out of it. You just can’t tell anyone. If the police find me again, they’ll take me away. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, “How long?”

“Just a few days,” he said, staring at the television screen. “Then I’ll come back.”

He felt sick in telling her this and sick in knowing that it might not be true.

She went into the kitchen and started washing the dishes again. All they’d eaten today was cereal, and he wasn’t sure if there was anything else in the house. He should have gone shopping last night.

He hated going to Soobin, but who else did he have? He’d just leave a note. He’d probably be back soon. This was probably just a fluke. He’d look normal again in a day or two.

He didn’t glance in the mirror, but as he changed his shirt, he could feel them. The physical marks of his inner monster, as he’d seen just two days ago in the mirror.

Once he was dressed, he crept through back alleyways to the school. Broke a back window. Stopped in at the library, tucking a note in the pages of Soobin’s most-referenced book. Descended an unknown amount of stairs to the pool.

He’d tried ignoring it. 

Now that he couldn’t, he would hide.

##

Wednesday, after school, Kai brought Mia to his house for the second time. This time, she stayed for dinner. Kai was so excited that she wanted to hang out with him a second time in one week that he didn’t care about the the looks his aunt and uncle shared. The looks that said they thought Mia was more than just a friend.

Despite her blonde braids and glasses, her conversation style and presence seemed to meld so well into his home. She and his uncle had detailed conversations in English that Kai could hardly keep up with. She seemed just as happy to be there as they were to have her. 

She even talked about how hard it was to make friends, as a freckle-faced American who believed in aliens.

“Kai,” she said, very pointedly, as they finished a board game, “Weren’t you going to show me your drawings before I have to go home?”

“Yeah,” he said, “They’re in my room. Come on.”

“Leave the door open!” his uncle called behind them, humor in his voice. Kai rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

Mia flipped through Kai’s books of drawings. His therapist approved of his artistic endeavors, so his aunt was okay with them, even if her occasional flip through the pages made her shudder.

“You’re really good at this,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said.

She continued perusing the sketches and showed no sign of stopping, so he asked, “You just, like, noticed them?”

“Hmm?” She flipped to another page, where he’d drawn the giant centipede monster with a hundred legs like sharpened iron.

“The others. Out of the whole school, you knew they were different?”

“Not at first,” she said, still staring at the monster, “I just, well. Sort of fell into it. It’s kind of embarrassing, cause he’s a total jerk, but I used to think Soobin was really cute.” If she thought guys that looked like Soobin were cute, she definitely wouldn’t fall for someone like Kai. “So I went to the library on valentine’s day to confess my undying love. He started yelling at me, and I started crying, but that’s when I realized: he wasn’t human. I’d felt it in the halls a few times, but there, alone with him in the library, I really knew it.”

Kai shuddered.

“So I waited. And watched. It was pretty easy to pinpoint Choi Beomgyu and Kang Taehyun. Yeonjun was a little harder. He flickers, if that makes any sense. And then I noticed you, starting to target them, as well, and here we are.”

She was to his last drawing in the journal.

“You really don’t think I’m crazy?” he asked.

“You really don’t think I’m just making this up because an upperclassman rejected my feelings for him?”

The thought crossed his mind, but there was too much evidence for that to be the case.

“Do you have any other drawings?” she asked, closing the book.

“No,” he lied.

Her tone shifted, “Have you seen Yeonjun this week?”

“Yeah,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well. No, actually. Not this week.”

“It’s weird. I checked with the principal. He’s not suspended, and he hasn’t called to say he’s sick. Just not showing up. When’s the last time you saw him?”

Kai took a deep breath, then told her what had happened last Thursday. He left out the parts where he cried, of course.

“So, I open my eyes, and the light flickers, and I have wings!” he finished.

“You have wings?” she asked, flatly.

He nodded.

“That’s impossible.”

“I know. But they were there, for real, just as I’ve always drawn them.”

“I saw no wings in your book,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face.

Kai’s face went hot. “Well, of course not. I only draw things I wish weren't real in there. The wings, well, I wanted them to be real, so I drew them somewhere more solid. And it worked.”

“You don’t have to show me, if you don’t want,” she said, “But also, you’re a terrible liar and shouldn’t try to lie to me again.”

He took the poster down.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, sliding off the bed and kneeling in front of the wall. A smile lit up her face. “These are beautiful. You’re incredible.”

She stared for nearly a minute, tracing her fingers above the lines of the gears and feathers and intricate metal parts that made up the wings. 

She turned sharply towards him. “Yeonjun was in the reflection, too?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Kai said, “He was right behind me.”

“What did he look like?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

“Think harder.”

Kai squinted his eyes shut, forcing his brain back to Thursday. But…

“All I see is my wings,” he said, “I know it’s really self-centered, but they were so cool, and they were real, and I couldn’t help just looking at them. I didn’t even think about Yeonjun until I noticed he wasn’t there anymore.”

“Where’d he go?”

“He ran down the hall. I was scared he’d seen a monster, but he said…”

“What, Kai? What did he say?”

Kai swallowed. “He did see a monster. But he said I didn’t have to be afraid… not…”

“Not what?”

“Not yet.”

She closed her eyes, and her eyebrows drew together like she was in pain.

“What does that mean?” Kai whispered.

“I think it means we have to find him,” Mia said. “We have to find him before It does.”

##

After first period on Thursday, they confronted Beomgyu. More accurately, they cornered him, using a battle strategy invented by Mia that Kai didn’t fully understand.

Their upperclassman nearly jumped out of his skin. “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”

Kai opened his mouth to tell him they weren’t going to hurt him, but Mia spoke first.

“Where’s Yeonjun?” she demanded, stepping forward and causing Beomgyu to cower even further back.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” she shouted, and pounded her fist into her other hand. She could really be scary when she wanted to. “Choi Yeonjun. We need to find him. Where’d you last see him?”

Beomgyu glanced between the freshmen, looking for an escape, but Mia just stepped closer to him, eyes blazing behind her glasses.

“Friday,” he squeaked, “I passed him as I ran to the bus stop.”

“That’s the whole truth?”

“I swear!”

She leaned back and smiled. “So, you gonna help us find him?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice. If you make the right one, you’ll meet us outside the east door to the cafeteria before lunch.”

“But that’s where”—

“Exactly.”

##

The week before, three kids had been expelled for making wagers. Therefore, Kang Taehyun’s corner was, for once, quiet.  
“I’m guessing you aren’t here to make a bet,” he said. He was wearing sunglasses despite the overcast skies, and a black leather jacket that had seen better days. Kai was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone look so cool in his life.

To his surprise, Mia had stayed behind him. He glanced back at her, and saw Beomgyu melt out of the shadows and join her.

“Time is money,” Taehyun said, kicking his boots—also heavy and black leather, but with mismatched laces—up on the table.

“Yeonjun is missing,” Kai blurted.

Taehyun grinned. “We have a couple options. Is the wager on how long he’ll be gone, or if the police have caught him yet?”

“Not a bet,” Kai said. “We know you know him, just like you know me and Beomgyu.”

Taehyun scoffed. “You think I, the great Taehyun, use my time to befriend juvenile delinquents idiotic enough to get caught?”

“He’s not an idiot,” Kai said, defensive. “He’s just…” But what was Yeonjun? Besides their time in the woods as kids, Kai had only had two encounters with him: once going into the forest, and another when Yeonjun had saved him from Baek Hyunjin.

“Kid,” Taehyun said.

“We’re in the same grade,” Kai replied.

“I’m a bookie. I deal in statistics, not location. And only for cash. If you had some money, I might be able to help you.”

He shrugged, as if he knew Kai had nothing.

There was some shuffling behind him, and Mia stepped up. “Five dollars,” she said, “What should I place it on?”

“Smart girl. If I were you, I like the odds of you finding him before the last bus leaves for the night. Odds shrink to almost nothing if you don’t talk to Choi Soobin after the final bell.”

“I take it,” Mia said.

In a flash so fast Kai hardly saw it, Taehyun snagged the bill and made it disappear. “We’ll be seeing each other soon,” Taehyun said, “Leave me in peace.”

Beomgyu disappeared into the shadows as suddenly as he’d appeared, and as soon as they were back inside, Kai said, “I didn’t know you were scared of him, too.”

“I’m not scared of any of them. Well, maybe Yeonjun. Soobin’s a jerk, and Beomgyu’s a coward, but that guy is such a good liar it gives me the creeps just to be near him, you know?”

Kai shrugged. “I thought he was kinda cool.”

“Cool? You’re the only cool one of them, and that’s cause you’re like me.”

Besides the fact that he, also, wasn’t Korean by birth, he couldn’t see much resemblance between himself and Mia. “Why, cause we’re both crazy?”

“No, silly,” she said, punching his arm, “We’re both human.”

##

This was what Soobin lived for. The smell of paper and glue, the older the better. Flipping through books in Korean and Japanese, English and Mandarin, Latin and Greek. The sound the chalk made as he drew diagrams, followed formulas, and watched the alchemical symbols take shape before his eyes.

And it was as quiet as a place could get. Few people came to this corner of the library, so all he heard was the sounds he made: flipping pages, scratching on paper, drawing with chalk.

He’d barely been there half an hour when the silence was broken. He couldn’t pick out the words yet, just the murmur of their voices, down the hall and at the bottom of the stairs. As they ascended, he knew the steps of Choi Beomgyu. The other two were familiar, though he couldn’t give them names yet. A boy and a girl, both small, probably freshmen.

They paused outside the door and he cringed at the echoes of their whispers. They were afraid of him. Good. Maybe they’d leave.

“We have to!” the girl said at last, and the three of them burst through the door.

Soobin grabbed one of his favorite books. He hadn’t looked at it all week, since he’d found a complicated passage in a Greek text that he’d spend days parsing. But it steadied his hands to hold it.

Their collective breathing pressed on his consciousness, and he thought about this book to ground himself. He’d found it in a college library, and had convinced the librarian to let him keep it. Since it hadn’t been checked out in twenty years, she agreed. The text compared different fictional portrayals of alchemy and presented several compelling theories on that particular science in the real world.

He’d missed it, the familiar words and images. If only these punks would leave, he could open it and read it and the noise would fade, but they were still standing there, breathing so freaking loudly…

“What?” he asked, quiet but firm.

They kept standing there, unable to find words. He could hear their blood pumping. Their hearts pounding.

“What?” he asked again, more loudly, bringing his eyes up to meet them. Purposefully. Individually.

Beomgyu faltered immediately, hunching his shoulders and staring at his shoes.

Kai was the name of the younger boy, and he met Soobin’s eyes for two seconds before letting his gaze fall.

The girl was last, and she fit least of all. Not only because she was a girl, or American, or that he didn’t know her name. She was an outsider: she had no connection to the Midworld. She was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t remember when he’d spoken to her.

She alone didn’t flinch.

“Go away,” he told her.

“N-no,” she stammered.

“Get the frick out of my library,” he said, stepping forward.

She stood her ground, though her eyes lowered. “Yeonjun,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Choi Yeonjun,” she said, louder.

“The frick do I have to do with Yeonjun?”

“He’s missing. We need to find him.”

“Probably in juvie,” Soobin said, smirking, “Did you hear that he started a fire? Complete psycho.”

“No,” she said, still staring at her Converse. “He’s not a pyromaniac or a criminal. He just vanished after seeing who he really is.”

A shiver started in Soobin’s spine. “What do you mean by that?”

“I know about the door,” she said. “The Wood Between the Worlds. The”—

“You’re as crazy as your friend is,” he said, gesturing to Kai. “Get out of my space.”

He turned and opened his book, but the girl didn’t shut up.

“No! I won’t! He’s important and he’s your friend and he’s in danger. I don’t care how cute you are, I’m not going to let you push me around, and…”

There was a paper tucked between the pages of his book. He unfolded it. The noise around him blurred.

_I’m going away. Hope I come back, might not. If you don’t see me by Wed. please go check on my mom. Sorry to ask, but idk who else there is. I can’t hide it like you can.  
-YJ_

Yeonjun and Soobin were not friends, but there had been half a decade when they’d called themselves such. Even now, though they only spoke when absolutely necessary, Yeonjun was the closest thing Soobin had to a friend, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

And this? This note, tucked in the pages of Soobin’s favorite book, where he should have found it on Monday, and then this group of underclassman—including two of Them—here claiming Yeonjun was missing…

Unfounded, illogical, ridiculous fear built up in Soobin’s soul (and he did have a soul, no matter what anyone said).

“Have you checked the pool yet?” he demanded through the chatter. Their voices fell silent, their hearts thumping like drums.

Finally—and unsurprisingly—the girl spoke. “The hidden pool with the passage to the Wood?”

“Yes,” Soobin said, hoping she could hear the frustration in his voice.

“I don’t even know how I found it the first time,” Kai said.

“He does,” Soobin said, pointing at Beomgyu, who cringed away.

They were useless. Always had been, always would be.

He pushed through them and let his instinct guide him to the pool, even though his heart told him he might not want to see what was there.

##

They’d been standing breathless in the pool room for several minutes when Kai realized Mia was holding his hand. More than that, she was squeezing it like her life depended on it. Like she’d fall down a bottomless cliff if she let go.

A wave of relief had fallen over Soobin’s shoulders as he stared at the water.

“Once again,” said a voice from the shadows. Kai jumped, but he wasn’t surprised to see Taehyun step into the misty light. “I’ve gathered you all here for a meeting of utmost importance.”

“Doesn’t seem important to me,” Soobin scoffed.

“Our comrade leapt in the pool on Saturday night and has yet to emerge,” Taehyun said. He was still wearing sunglasses, and his fingers dragged along the wall as he walked forward.

“We’d have heard if he died here,” Soobin said.

“You assume the uninvited can find this place.”

“Well, I’m standing here now,” Soobin said, the snark in his voice building, “And I don’t see a body.”

Taehyun clicked his tongue condescendingly. “We all know this isn’t simply a pool.”

“He’s too human to see the gate,” Soobin said.

“So you think,” Taehyun said, “But if enough of the Underworld pushed through…”

Soobin went very still. Kai was confused, but as the silence deepened around him, it seemed as if the fear of the others was becoming his own. He had no idea what he was afraid of, though.

“The headaches,” Soobin said, quietly. “I thought he had more time.” His hand brushed his ear.

“The three of us can find a way to hide, if we take the cost,” Taehyun said.

Mia tensed beside him, and then said, “What cost?” Her voice was high.

The others jumped, as if they hadn’t remembered there was an outsider in their midst.

Soobin turned to her and said, “You should get the hell”—

“Blindness,” Taehyun interrupted him. “At, least, that’s how it is for me.”

Off to the side, Kai was vaguely aware that Beomgyu was clutching his shoulder and crying.

Taehyun stepped away from the wall and towards Kai and Mia, carefully testing each step.

“Sunglasses,” he said, when he was in front of them. “Two dollars at the convenience store. Obscure my eyes from the public. But in suppressing my specialness, my human eye loses its function, and I can’t see.”

“We’re all friends here,” Mia said, “Take off the glasses.”

“I don’t want to scare”—

Before he could finish, Mia reached forward and pulled them off.

Taehyun blinked. His shoulders relaxed. “Your accent is good,” he said, “I would have guessed you were Korean.”

His left eye was black with a star shining from it. With every blink, it grew brighter, until a soft glow was all around them.

Kai stole a glance as Mia. Her eyes were shiny, almost glittering in the starlight.

“See,” Taehyun said, voice cracking. “Scary.”

“No,” Mia said. “That’s not the right word.”

“Frightening?” Taehyun suggested, “Monstrous? Horrific?”

“Beautiful,” Mia countered, “Amazing. Real.”

Taehyun obviously didn’t know what to do with this. He started to turn away.

“No,” Mia said, “Please. I want to see you. For just a little longer.”

So he looked at her. They all looked at her. Tears ran quietly down her cheeks.

She turned to Soobin. “You hear everything. Don’t you?”

He shrugged, and tried to brush his hair over his ears, but they all saw the pointed tips.

“Stand up,” she said to Beomgyu, who was still crouched in the corner. He stood, cringing, and took a stumbling step towards her. Kai knew why. Taehyun’s eye was magical, and Soobin’s ears could be called elvish, but there wasn’t a pretty word for the bloody spikes protruding from Beomgyu’s shoulder.

She closed the rest of the distance between them and touched his face. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she said, “I’ll never hurt you.”

To Kai’s surprise, Beomgyu rested his head on her shoulder. The spines vanished, and Mia wrapped her arms around him. 

“What about Yeonjun?” Kai asked, when it was apparent no one else was going to say anything. “What’s his special”—

“He’s human,” Soobin said, “Or, at least, he should be. He wasn’t born a monster like us, and he didn’t choose to see it like you. The old magic was forced upon him.”

“In other words,” Taehyun started.

“We can’t tell you,” Beomgyu finished.

Mia wiped the tears from her eyes, smudging up her glasses. “You should go now,” she said.

“But…” Beomgyu began. The spikes shot out again, and he cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Mia knelt beside him.

“She’s right,” Soobin said. “My charts say that It has great power tonight. We might be too late already.”

“No,” Mia said, “It can’t be too late. You have to go. Have to try.”

“What about you?” Kai said, “Can’t you come, too?”

“No, idiot,” Soobin said, “She’s human.”

“So am I,” Kai said, “You all said it. And I’ve been there already, surely she can…”

But they’d turned away, already slipping quietly into the water.

“If I can do it,” Kai said, “I know you can, too.”

“One day,” she said, “But I don’t have wings yet.”

She looked up at him, and the pain in her eyes made him feel more sad than he had in a long while. Not in a crying way, but in a deeper way, like there was something separating him from her, something that they might never be able to cross. 

“Here,” she said, “Look.” She took his hand and pulled him to the edge of the pool.

His reflection—complete with the wings he’d dreamt up for himself—stared back at him.

“Yeonjun’s in more danger than he could possibly know,” she said, “Last week, he saved you. It’s time to return the favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, how I love these early TXT chapters. If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment.
> 
> Nap of a Star: Chapter 4 will be posted next Friday (July 24th, 2020.)
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	11. Nap of a Star: Chapter 4

How long had he been here?

Yeonjun had no way of knowing. The clocks ticked, but time stayed the same.

He’d found a little cabin, here in the eternal twilight of this secret wood. Warm. Inviting. Food and a bed and a stove and—

And—

A mirror.

The roof and walls and fire protected him from the rumbling storm outside, but the mirror remained. He couldn’t take it down or break it. There was no where he could stand without catching at least a little of his reflection.

Hiding under the blankets had seemed a good idea at first, especially as thunder shook the foundations of the house. But the more he ignored them, the more his horns seemed to grow.

There was no escape in hiding.

The ticking, the blur of time, the horror of his own reflection. He knew it was madness, even as he bundled some food into a bag and threw his scarf over his shoulders and wandered out into the eternal evening. A brook crept by behind the house, and he carefully crossed the log that lay over it.

The Woods hadn’t seemed so dark before. When they were all kids, just playing in the twilight. When the unwanted magic in his veins was new and unknown and beautiful.

Before he knew what the magic really was.

Snakes slithered in the undergrowth. More than once, he saw skeletal figures peering from behind the trees. Maybe from beyond the trees, in the deeper world. The one where…

He told himself over and over that he need not fear death.

If these horns told him anything, he was Death. Or would be. He wasn’t yet. The magic was still growing, and something _wrong_ still had Its grip on the crown.

After some minutes, or hours, or days, Yeonjun lit a fire, and let its warmth touch his cold fingertips. He lay down in the soft grey leaves, pulling his scarf around him. He breathed, and listened to the breath of the world around him. Creatures of unknown ages slept here, or woke and walked amongst the trees. 

He was simply another creature of the forest.

Sleep closed over him.

##

Once more, Kai confirmed for himself that he wasn’t crazy.

Wasn’t hallucinating.

He was right. Always had been. That brought about many other unpleasant implications, but over the years he’d become fantastically good at not thinking about those sorts of things.

Instead, he focused on his friends. The social misfits of his high school suddenly fit. Their magic—because magic it was—came naturally from them as they walked along the forest path.

As for him?

He belonged here, too. There was no magic in him, waiting to be set free, but his wings were real. Made by his mind, sure, but real. Here. Present. He didn’t know if he could fly. In fact, he doubted it. The wings weren’t made for flying in the traditional sense.

They were made so he could fly among them. These otherworldly children. His friends. Kids who belonged elsewhere.

“Where are we?” It was Beomgyu who broke the silence, but it took them all a moment to realize it was him. His voice was brighter than Kai had ever heard, and there was almost a smile on his face.

“Home,” Taehyun said. The star in his eye glowed. It would have been scary, if they weren’t here. But they were here, and here, it was all right.

“They call it many things,” Soobin said. “I believe I heard the girl call it The Wood Between the Worlds. That is, perhaps, an accurate way to view it.”

“Well, what does it mean?” Beomgyu asked.

“Seriously, don’t you know anything?”

“I don’t know, either,” Taehyun said.

Soobin grumbled for a few seconds, and then began. “The theory rests on the existence of three, umm, realms, I guess you’d call them. Dimensions, maybe. Three planes of existence, occurring simultaneously, always interlinked. Where we are now is usually called the Midworld, but I don’t like that title. This place is not so much a world, as the place between them, which is why I prefer what that girl—what was her name?”

“Mia,” Kai said.

“Mia. What she called it. This middle place. It isn’t firm. It bleeds through to either side, which has given birth to many of the great legends and stories most push aside as fantasy. Right now, it’s spilling over really heavy into what you might call the Overworld. Heavier than it has for thousands of years. We’re the evidence of that.”

“Me, too?” Kai asked.

Soobin nodded. “Monsters born into the Living World, and real children… well…” he trailed off and glanced at Kai, “Real children crossing over into Faerieland.”

Kai was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant to say at first.

“So it isn’t always like this?” Beomgyu asked.

“Correct,” Soobin said. “Three monster-children, born so close together in such a specific location as Seoul, never would have happened forty years ago. Had our souls been born in the 70’s, we never would have come into the Real World instead of here.”

“Wait, so we aren’t changelings, then?” Taehyun asked.

“What?”

Taehyun shrugged, and there was a glint in his eye that looked a little scary for a minute. “Changelings. Switched with normal children at birth.”

Soobin scoffed. “No. Changelings did exist, but there are no confirmed stories of them for over a hundred years, and we aren’t changelings. Simply the souls of the Midworld born to human parents, which is far more rare, looking at history as a whole. You don’t have a secret twin hidden away somewhere down here, if that’s what worried you.”

Taehyun nodded, but Kai was pretty sure he didn’t believe him.

They continued deeper into the woods.

##

Yeonjun woke.

His heart pounded.

How long had he been sleeping?

He’d only meant to close his eyes for a moment.

But…

But…

Did time even work here?

The fire was out.

A clattering of bones—

_bones—_

came from his right.

He hugged his scarf around him and scooted away from the cold ashes of his fire.

Why was he so scared?

Why was he here?

Yes.

That was it.

The freaking horns on his head.

The power he could not master deep within his veins.

And—

And—

Something wanted him?

No—

_It._

Something wanted _it_. Something wanted the power within him, caring little for the soul that held it.

In fact, that Something... It needed… It wanted… It was…

He could see It now. 

Mismatched orbs in the depths of the trees. 

Seeking for him.

Seeking him with such great desire that he could feel the claw sliding through his throat.

##

It wasn’t long before they lost sight of Soobin. He kept ahead at a steady pace, seeming to ignore the wild beauty that played out around them.

Strange, papery butterflies, spiders on web of fine silk hard as diamonds, leaves of grey and gold fluttering in an unfelt breeze.

“Oh my gosh, look!” Beomgyu shouted, “Just up ahead!” He sprinted forward, and Kai nearly followed him, but…

“Taehyun?” Kai turned.

Taehyun had paused, his hand resting on the trunk of a tree. He was, well, looking.

“Why’d you stop? What’s up?”

Taehyun turned to him. At the sight of his black eye, Kai supressed a shiver. 

“Don’t you see it?” Taehyun asked. His voice sounded hollow, and Kai was a little afraid to be alone with him.

“Yeah, it’s amazing, but we shouldn’t let Beomgyu get too far ahead”—

“I’ve been blind for the better part of the month.”

“I’m sorry,” Kai said, “That’s rough.”

“The faster we move, the sooner I go back to that. So I think I might just take my time.”

Kai nodded. “You’ll be okay alone?”

“Don’t worry about me, kid.”

“You aren’t that much older than me,” Kai said, trying to force some lightness into the atmosphere.

Taehyun smirked, and Kai felt okay again. “Go on, angel wings.”

“See you soon, star eyes.”

##

Run. Run. Run.

He couldn’t go fast enough.

It was coming.

The odd-eyes.

The malice.

The One who held the power of Death.

He could hardly breathe.

Every time he blinked, he felt hot blood pouring out of his throat.

The feeling wasn’t real now, but it was what would happen when It caught him.

He tripped—

Sprawled out on the path—

No…

“I don’t want it,” he whispered, “I can’t control it. I never asked for it. I…”

His voice would do nothing.

The horns betrayed him.

He hated those horns.

He wouldn’t die a monster.

This Thing would know that he’d never asked for the power he held.

##

For perhaps the first time in a year, Choi Soobin listened.

In the Overworld, just hearing was too much. Unceasing noise assaulting his senses, from the rumbling of a hot water heater to the way his mother chewed her food to the sound of anyone else writing anything at all, in chalk or pen or pencil. Water rushing through the pipes when a sink was turned on practically anywhere in the school. The hitched breathing of a kid with a cold three classrooms down. All of it, grating on his brain, making him want to scream and drown it all out.

Now? Here?

His soul was home. His abilities were free. Everything was in balance. He could hear freely, as he was always meant to do.

And he knew he was missing something. 

Every spare moment in the Overworld he spent in books and research, trying to find out more about his home, this Woods, and the monsters that came from it. Why there were three of them, born three years in a row, who went to the same school. What it meant that they knew Yeonjun. How Kai was able to find and follow them. Now, he’d have to add the little American girl to the equation, once he was back with his books, and—

No.

Focus.

He was here, he was now, and with all the knowledge in his head, he knew he was missing something. His knowledge told him there was danger in this woods, but his soul felt too at home to notice what was off.

So he listened.

##

For perhaps the first time in a year, Choi Beomgyu was not afraid.

He hid anyways.

It wasn’t fear that drove him to it. More of an instinct. _Danger is near, get out of the way._

Right now, burrowed beneath the forest floor, he wondered why he was always so scared. Oh, yes. That was it: humans. Humans hurt things like him. But here, here he was…

His shoulder ached.

What? Why?

He needed to go out.

He wasn’t safe down here—not any more than he was up there. And his instincts told him that up there, they needed him.

Beomgyu paused before ascending. Felt his newfound instincts.

He went out into the world again.

##

For perhaps the first time in a year, Kang Taehyun saw clearly.

He saw the mismatched eyes in the woods. Felt their malice as they prowled.

He’d always known they were all monsters, and that he was a special kind. A kind that one day could tilt fate. A kind that could take power not meant for them. 

A kind that already had.

It was only a matter of time before Soobin figured it out. Discovered that Taehyun was truly dangerous. That he could ruin everything. That Taehyun, with both his eyes, could See.

He opened his eyes, both of them, for just a moment.

He sat in the Midworld, one eye in the Overworld, one in the chaos that reined beneath. Chaos that should not be. Chaos that his special kind of monster had caused.

It was too much for one boy to bear. He brought himself back to the middle. Looking at the trees. The grass. The stars.

But the thoughts did not leave him.

The unlawful Death was seeking for Yeonjun.

He knew what would happen when Death found Yeonjun. He knew that Yeonjun never asked for this burden.

But Taehyun, also, had not asked to be born with Sight.

He shouldn’t care what happened to Yeonjun. He was just an unlucky human. Didn’t deserve the power given to him. A power that belonged with those with the Sight.

Would anyone try to save Yeonjun? Beomgyu would be too frightened. Soobin probably knew the odds and would stay away. Kai... well, Kai would try, but he was so desperately human. There was no way he could stand against the power of the odd-eyes.

Yeonjun would die, and the cycle would start over, the endless cycle of death and pain and chaos and…

Taehyun hated it.

He hated what he saw with both his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t turn on his kind. Those cursed to see all. But he also knew he couldn’t let Yeonjun die. Not today.

##

Kai was alone.

He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up alone. He’d left Taehyun and skipped ahead to try and find Beomgyu, but never found him. He didn’t find Soobin, either. 

He wasn’t afraid. It was just the Woods. He’d been here when he was a little kid. Dancing in the light of the stars. Chasing his friends through the trees.

Something was wrong, though. He’d come here for a reason. He knew this. But he couldn’t remember why. All that was left in his memory was this woods. Maybe he’d never left. Maybe he’d just fallen asleep, and all the life he had with his aunt and…

And who?

Seoul? What sort of word was that? Was that really a place?

This Wood. This was all there was. 

Sweet-smelling breezes

(there was no breeze)

A warmth of starlight

(he was not warm)

The clattering of bones

(the bones, the bones, the clacking teeth and the staring dark holes begging, begging, begging)

“Oh,” he said. “Hello.”

There was Something in front of him.

It was startled to see him.

One moment, It was huge, a presence beyond anything he knew. Towering above him, two bright lights, a swirling darkness all around. He’d have been perfectly happy to let It have him. He was such a little thing. Just a creature of the forest.

_No, silly._

What was that voice in his head?

He blinked, and the Darkness became small. Almost like a cat.

A cat?

What was a cat?

_You’re human._

He remembered golden hair. Round glasses. A spatter of freckles.

The Thing, for lack of a better word, sniffed him.

It sighed. Frustrated. 

And then… 

Frightened?

“You shouldn’t be here,” It said. Its voice was sweeter than it should be, and Kai felt all fuzzy-headed, like he might fall on his face and let It take him. Take him to the place where the hollow skulls clattered and the bones screamed for help—

Help?

He was supposed to…

Supposed to…

He blinked at the blue-green stare. And something behind them, something familiar…

Kai remembered a boy from his school (yes, school, a place where children went to learn things, human children, children like him), a boy with wings in the mirror, and behind him… a boy with horns. 

Oh. 

Yes. 

That’s why Yeonjun (that was his name, yes, Yeonjun) ran. Why hadn’t Kai remembered this before?

_He saved you last week._

Now he saw the girl. In reflection, also, but this reflection rippled. He once more had wings. She did not. But in her eyes, as her hand clasped his one more time before he jumped in the pool, he saw that she believed—

That she believed—

_It’s time to return the favor._

This was his purpose. Saving Yeonjun. From this Shadow before him.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, am I?”

The Thing bristled with anger. Kai had to be careful. He still didn’t understand what was going on. He’d have to ask Soobin later, if there was a later.

“I waited,” said the Thing, “I waited and I waited and I watched and now when I thought I had you you’re just… just…”

“I’m sorry,” Kai said.

“Heh,” It laughed, “You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“You know not what you say.”

“I really don’t,” Kai said.

“Fancy wings you have there.”

“Aren’t they nice?”

“You made them yourself. Huh. Didn’t know mortals could do that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kai said, shocked with every moment that the Thing hadn’t killed him yet.

“No, no, this is quite the revelation for me. I could use this.”

Kai didn’t like the sound of that, but he had to go with it. “I made them up,” he said, “And they became real. Easy as that.”

“Oh, not so easy, after all,” he said. “Well, as long as you’re human… I wonder if you’d be interested in a…”

The Voice stuck.

“Interested in making a”—

It froze again.

“Can you help me get out of here?” Kai asked, in his sweetest, most innocent voice. 

“Yes,” the Thing snapped, “If you’ll only”—

A shrieking surrounded Kai. He clapped his hands over his ears, but did not fall. The shadow and the lights swirled and echoed around him. The rest of his memories flooded back. Seoul. South Korea. His family. His friends.

The Shadow was gone.

He knew for a fact It had been looking for Yeonjun. Looking to kill him, to take… what had Soobin called it? _The Old Magic._ The power Yeonjun had never wanted. The horns on his head that Kai’s memory had blocked.

It had found Kai instead. Had known Kai had no power. Had believed its tracking had been wrong, that Yeonjun had maybe not been the human intruding this land. It had then wanted to do something to Kai, but couldn’t. So It had left.

Yeonjun had to be close.

He turned around and went the way the monster of smoke and shadow and cat-eyes would have gone, had not Kai been in the way.

##

Blood. Real blood. Hot and sticky, running over his hands, dripping down his face.

Yeonjun gasped, lying in the dirt. 

It had worked. 

It had worked. 

His horn was broken. He could break them. 

But it made no freaking difference.

It was still coming.

It would still kill him.

Breaking his horns would not bring the magic out of him.

He would be the one who should be Death until the one who should not be Death found and killed him. There was no way he could gain use of his powers. He was human. Too human. His blood was red and hot and sticky, his heart fluttering like a butterfly, his emotions showing through the tears coming out the corners of his eyes.

The malice grew. It was nearly here. He didn’t want to die. He couldn’t die. His mother needed him. Soobin would try to care for her, he knew, but there was no way, no way anyone else could keep her from the people who thought she should be in an asylum for the rest of her life.

But if he was really Death, didn’t that mean he was really the devil, and then, well, shouldn’t he die?

No. No. He didn’t want to die. He was too afraid.

A light washed over him.

A voice.

“Yeonjun? Yeonjun, are you there? Come on. Where… oh gosh, Yeonjun, are you hurt?”

It was Kai. The kid with the angel wings. The kid who shouldn’t be allowed to enter the Midworld, yet came here just the same.

He didn’t want Kai to see him. Not like this. Not with the horns.

“Go away,” Yeonjun said.

“I didn’t spend the past who-knows-how long looking for you and nearly have my soul stolen by some evil shadow cat to leave now,” Kai said. “Oh. One of your antlers… it’s like…”

Kai was kneeling in front of him now. Yeonjun wished he would leave. Wished he could be alone.

“Why’d you break it?” Kai asked, quiet.

“I didn’t want to die a monster,” Yeonjun said.

“Well, good thing I’m here,” said Kai, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. “You’re not going to die, and you aren’t a monster.”

“Don’t you see me?”

“Yeah. I see you. The guy who saved me from Hyunjin Baek the other day. The guy who has these really awesome antlers, like, like an elk or something. A caribou? A reindeer? I think Taehyun’s trying to think of nicknames for all of us—we could call you Rudolph!”

“Hell no,” Yeonjun said, but he looked up. 

Kai reached forward, sleeve over his hand, and wiped some of the blood off Yeonjun’s face. “You’re going to be all right,” Kai said. “You don’t have to run away.”

“Tell me how this is going to be all right.”

“First, you’re going to realize that you have friends. Second, we’re going to leave this middle world place. Third, you’re going to get all cleaned up and go home and see your mom. She’s probably worried about you.”

Shakily, Yeonjun sat up. “How can I see her when I look like this?”

Suddenly, Soobin came out of the trees. “You’ve been in here for days. When we go out, I’m sure you’ll fall back into your humanity. The headache will come back, unfortunately, but you might be okay, visually, until autumn comes.”

From another corner, Beomgyu showed up. “Yeonjun! You’re okay!” he shouted, as if they were great friends and not simply acquaintances, and he ran up to them. 

“Thank goodness,” Taehyun’s voice said, “I was afraid It might have taken you. What a state the world would be in, if you died and a new kid had to be chosen again. The worlds are already on the verge of chaos.”

Yeonjun didn’t understand this, not at all, but he realized he was surrounded by four other boys, and they weren’t running and screaming. Sure, three weren’t quite human, but Kai, Kai definitely was, and he’d been the first.

“You know what I am, right?” Yeonjun said, “Or, well, what I should be?”

The three who came from this middle place nodded. Yeonjun looked straight at Kai. “What am I?”

Kai shrugged. “Well, I’m still really confused and a little overwhelmed. But I think you might be, well, I don’t know, it sounds really weird to say it…”

He trailed off, but Yeonjun wouldn’t let him. He just kept staring until Kai picked up again.

“Are you supposed to be Death?”

“Does that scare you?” Yeonjun asked.

“Death isn’t scary,” Kai said, “Not when it’s right. Everyone has to die. But that… that Thing, the one with the eyes…” he shuddered, and suddenly fell forward and hugged Yeonjun.

“That Thing is scary. It wants to kill you. No. More than that. It wants to kill everything,” Kai whispered against his shoulder, “You have to stop It.”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” Yeonjun said.

“Not alone,” Soobin said, and Yeonjun felt his sort-of friend’s arms around him, too.

“You’ve got us,” Beomgyu said, coming from the other side.

“Why else would we have come about at just such a time as this,” Taehyun said, the only one still holding back, “If it were not to help you take your rightful throne?” He, too, knelt next to Yeonjun, and leaned against him.

“This is ridiculous,” Yeonjun said, but he couldn’t hide the tears in his voice. “Like… I…”

He couldn’t say any more. There was no need to fight it. He wasn’t alone. Never had been. This wouldn’t be easy. He still didn’t want it, but it appeared he had no choice.

He laid his head on Kai’s shoulder.

He listened to the sound of their breathing. Felt their warmth surrounding him. Holding on to him. Not leaving him alone to his fate.

Things would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) One more chapter in "Nap of a Star," coming Friday, July 31st!


	12. Nap of a Star: Chapter 5

The next day was April 11th.

Things blurred for the next several weeks.

It seemed, at many times, as if they’d lived these days before. As if they were simply going through pre-ordained motions.

In Yeonjun’s home, he could never remember what he saw on the local news. Had a young man burned himself to death in a hotel, or had he only nearly done so in a motel, before being saved by a boy who Yeonjun could have sworn died weeks ago?

Finally, on the 23rd of May, clarity returned to Yeonjun. He felt present again, for the first time since he’d climbed out of the pool with his friends. They’d met up half a dozen times since then, swimming or hiking or just hanging out at a burger joint, but it felt more like a hundred, all of them blurred together with the smallest differences of detail.

On this 23rd of May, Yeonjun met with Soobin alone. They’d made the decision on Friday—which Friday, he wasn’t quite sure, everything was so blurry it made his head ache—but finally, the 23rd was here.

He walked into the library. Soobin was sitting, staring down through his glasses at an old book that was neither Korean nor English.

“So,” Yeonjun said, taking a seat across from him, “We finally meet.”

“You felt it, too?” Soobin said, still staring at his book.

“Yes. I have no idea what it was, but I don’t like it. It’s like, well, I didn’t know what was real.”

“Hmm.”

Yeonjun leaned back, kicking his shoes up on the desk, but Soobin made no comment. “Did it have anything to do with our adventure in the Midworld?”

Finally, Soobin looked up. “Possibly.” He closed the book, only to open another. Yeonjun recognized the alphabet on this one, but not the words.

“Come on,” Yeonjun said, “I could be eating burgers with our young friends, but I chose to come to your stupid library instead.”

“And why did you do that,” Soobin mumbled.

“Because if I’m supposed to be this special otherworldly entity, I want to know what the frick happened to time this past month.”

“Ah. So you did pick up on that.” He looked up at Yeonjun, but Yeonjun could tell his mind was a million miles away.

“Soobin. Hey. Come on. What did we do?”

“Very little."

“Explain.”

“I think most of the blame rests with Kai.”

“Huh?”

Soobin closed his book, and glanced over at the chalkboard. “You are supposed to be Death, yet you are not yet. Death wants to kill you, so he can keep his misbegotten power. He was coming for you, that night, but Kai stopped him.”

“I still don’t understand how…”

“I don’t either,” Soobin said, jumping to his feet and grabbing a piece of chalk. “Kai knew even less than what he knows now, which still isn’t much. Yet he, a simple mortal child, was able to halt the wrongful Death from tracking and killing you.”

It seemed like that moment had been half a year ago, not just six weeks. Yeonjun shuddered all the same. 

“This tells me several things,” Soobin said. He circled a cat-like monster he’d drawn on the board. “This Death is flawed. He is not ultimately powerful. Humans have some influence over him.”

“So Kai was telling the truth, when he said he just talked to him and he went away?”

“You think that kid could lie?”

Yeonjun smirked. “So, you think that his inability to have power over Kai was what drove him to literally make a time loop?”

“Perhaps. I keep thinking over what Kai said: That Death kept starting to ask him a question, but was unable to finish. I’ve been researching it, and I’m fairly certain I had it, at one point, but things are too blurry now to know for sure.”

“Also, like,” Yeonjun started, “We’re out of the loop now, right? Today hasn’t happened before.”

“Yes. This is the first May 23rd in a long time.”

“Why?”

Soobin walked to a shelf, scanned, and grabbed a few books. “Resources in Korean are limited, but you should start with these.”

“But you’ve already read them, right?” Yeonjun said, cringing, “Why should I?”

“You’re the rightful heir, as well as a new set of eyes and a new brain. You might see something I missed.”

Yeonjun sighed. “Whatever.” He opened the first book and started reading.

“There’s something else at work here,” Soobin said, staring at his designs on the chalkboard. “Death has been far too loose with his abilities. I wonder why.”

“I mostly wonder how we can make it stop,” Yeonjun said.

##

“Check,” Beomgyu said.

“Hmm.” Taehyun leaned back in his seat. “Mia, I have a bishop at A2, correct?”

“Yes,” Mia said.

“You know what to do.”

Mia smiled and slid the bishop across into Beomgyu’s Queen.

“You were supposed to warn me!” Beomgyu exclaimed, punching Kai’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t see it!” Kai said.

“Pathetic, really,” Mia said, “I haven’t given Taehyun a single hint this game, and he’s practically blind.”

“Are you sure you never played until today?” Kai asked.

“Not once,” Taehyun said. 

One of the fast food joint’s employees came over to their table. “Need any more fries? We’re going to start cleaning up the kitchen.”

Mia pulled out her wallet. “Nope, I’m all out of cash.”

“Eh, I bet I could get you some on the house,” the employee said, smiling.

“What, really? That’s awesome!”

He was back a minute later with another basket of fries. “We close up in half hour,” he said, “And I have places to be—so don’t make me throw you out of here.”

“We’ll be gone at nine fifty-nine,” Kai said.

“That’s what I like to hear,” said the employee as he walked backwards away from them, smiling, every step precise.

Mia dipped a french fry in sauce. “These things are incredible.”

“Another game?” Taehyun asked.

“Ah, I’m out,” Beomgyu said. “In fact, I think I’ll get out of here. My mom wanted me home by ten, and I’ll be pushing it if I leave now.”

“I’ll walk with you to the bus stop,” Taehyun said.

“You sure you can make it home okay?” Mia asked, “I mean. With your eyes and everything.”

“I’ll be fine. There’s a back alley near the bus stop. It’s abandoned enough that I can take off my glasses, and leads pretty much to my family’s house.”

“If you’re sure you’re okay. My dad could drop you off, if you wanted.”

Taehyun just smiled and shook his head.

The two of them grabbed handfuls of fries and walked off. The bell above the door jingled as they departed.

Kai and Mia were alone, sitting across the table from each other. “I’m guessing you don’t want to lose again tonight,” Mia said.

“We’ve been playing for almost three hours,” Kai said, “I don’t think I even remember where the pawns go.”

She swept the remaining pieces off her chessboard and flipped it over, carefully tucking them away. Kai simply watched her. She slid each piece under the elastic that was supposed to hold it with precision, and then folded and latched the board closed.

“You really like chess?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I mean. I don’t play much. My father doesn’t like it, and my mother, well, it reminds her too much of my real dad.” She used the english word there— _dad_ —and Kai froze. He’d known for a couple weeks that the man she called her father couldn’t really be, because he was Korean and Mia was nothing but American. But she’d never mentioned her real father before.

“I never played chess with him,” Mia said, “Heck, I only have, like, two memories of him. But Mom gave this to me when I turned twelve.”

Kai still didn’t know what to say.

“Do you remember your parents?” Mia asked, looking up at him.

Kai didn’t want to say anything, didn’t think he could say anything, but the words came of their own accord. “Well, a little. But I kinda, umm, well, have some PTSD surrounding the whole thing, so I don’t remember much at all.”

“How old were you when they died?” she asked, point blank.

“Six,” Kai said.

“I was three,” she said.

Kai did not want to go any deeper into his parent’s death, and he searched for a way to change the subject, but he had nothing. Thankfully, Mia did it for him.

“Why do you think Soobin and Yeonjun bailed on us?” she asked. “I wanted to see how Soobin was at chess. I mean, being such a know-it-all, you’d think he’d know something about the game.”

“I dunno,” Kai said, “Maybe they had something important or scary to talk about, and they didn’t want to tell us.”

“Really unfair of them, but I get it,” she said. “I mean, I’ll totally make them tell us next time we’re in a group. But I understand, trying to protect us, since we’re younger.”

Kai lost himself in how comfortable it was, sitting across from her in this little restaurant, eating greasy food and talking about nothing.

DING-DING!

The bell above the door rang. Kai looked up and saw a kid in an oversized hoodie come in. Even from here, he could see the dark circles under the kids eyes.

Muffled cursing sounds came from the back restaurant, but the kid who’d entered called, “Hey, Hoseok! You almost ready?”

The employee who’d given them the fries popped out from the back. “It’s just Jimin!” he called into the kitchen, “Not a new customer. Hey, Jimin, can you flip the closed sign? I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

“Guess that’s our cue to leave,” Mia said. “Oh. And there’s my father.”

She grabbed the chessboard and Kai ate the last two fries. As they passed the boy in the hoodie—Jimin, that was his name—Mia shivered. She glanced back at Jimin as he stood on his toes and flipped the sign in the window, and then they were both out.

They climbed into the back of the car and shut the door. Kai wanted to ask what she thought about Jimin, but her dad was here, and her dad definitely didn’t believe any of Mia’s crazy conspiracy theories. It didn’t stop her talking about them, at least the ones concerning Bigfoot and aliens and Atlantis. 

But she never talked about the Midworld when her parents were around.

Mr. Song looked both ways twice before pulling out into the street. “You guys need to be careful,” he said.

“Father,” Mia said, “You’re the one who was almost late. If we had to wait outside, it would have been your fault.”

“Which I why I’m never late, sweet Mia,” he said, “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Crossing the street. Your school’s on a busy road. You have to be careful.”

“Faaa-ther. We’re not idiots.”

“But just a few blocks away from your school, some teenaged kid got hit early this morning.”

Kai’s heart dropped. “One of our classmates?”

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Song said.

“Is he okay?” Mia asked.

“I know your mother knows, but she isn't allowed to tell us anything. She just told me I should throw out a warning to you kids.”

“That’s terrible,” Mia said, “Do they know who did it?”

“Hit and run.”

Kai leaned back in the seat. He felt sick. More sick than he’d felt in a long time. Like this was the first time he’d ever heard this piece of news.

Wait. That was funny. Of course it was the first time it had happened. But he’d felt that way all day: from the moment he woke up, through lunch with his family, doing homework in the afternoon, and meeting his friends at the burger place for the evening. Like the last few weeks had been unsteady, almost, and today was perfectly clear and true.

Maybe that was what Soobin and Yeonjun were talking about.

##

Taehyun waited until Beomgyu’s bus had pulled away.

No one was around, so he pushed his glasses up on his head. After a few blinks, he could see. The star wasn’t bright tonight.

Of course, just because there wasn’t a light shining out of his right eyes didn’t mean that it wouldn’t creep someone the hell out if they saw him. 

People didn’t have solid-black eyes.

Monsters and demons did.

That was what he was.

He held a hand in front of his face, just to make sure the star wasn’t glowing. Nope. No light. He walked down the sidewalk in the same direction Beomgyu’s bus had gone. Several buses passed him as he walked, the clock ticking to ten, and then passing it. 

Mia loved the burger place because of its American atmosphere, and since everyone else was willing and able to get there, Taehyun hadn’t wanted to refuse.

The others didn’t know he had no parents to drive him.

The others didn’t know he couldn’t spare money for the bus.

The others thought he lived in a fancy townhouse just a few blocks from the burger place. And he never lied to them. He always said his family lived down that alley. That was correct. His human family did live there.

He didn’t. Not anymore. In fact, going so close made him a little nervous. He doubted his human family would frequent such a falling-apart, cheap burger joint, but, if ever they did…

Taehyun did not want to find out.

He’d found refuge in an old train yard. The handful of not-collapsing storage containers were all occupied, but he had found a bit of shelter under a pile of parts and pieces. Sometimes, the other residents would let him sit around the fire with them, though he’d have to huddle away from them with his face in the shadows. But it was worth it, because sometimes they would share some food. 

They always recommended that he go to the youth shelter downtown, where he could get real help.

They didn’t know there was no help for him.

Most of the residents were middle-aged or older, fallen on hard times. There was only one other kid. Well, he wasn’t a kid anymore. Probably nineteen, maybe twenty, it was hard to tell. He lived in the container nearest to where Taehyun made his camp.

He’d followed this kid around, back when his eye wasn't constantly black. Found the truck stop that had free showers. Discovered the best convenience store, that would let you have hot water for free to cook the instant ramen you’d picked up for ten cents a cup at the discount store. And, if Mrs. Kim was working, she’d let you have a free coffee in the morning.

It had been cold, at first. He’d thought he might not survive the first night, but here he was, two months later, walking to his makeshift shelter of sheet metal like it was a luxury apartment.

He huddled under it, taking advantage of the star’s absence to look out and about. To try and catch a glimpse of the Living World’s stars, though it was impossible with the city lights and the grime-filled air.

The other boy walked in around midnight. Must have just finished his shift. He had a cell phone. An older model, sure, but, well… if he could afford such a luxury, why was he here?

He paused outside of Taehyun’s shelter. “You okay in there, Choi?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyun said, “Livin’ the life, am I right? Nowhere to go but up.”

The other boy laughed. “Well, you keep on living.”

“Same, bro.”

Whenever this other boy acknowledged him, they had almost the same exchange. Taehyun had lied about his name, of course. Not that it mattered. But it just felt better to pretend he was someone else. Besides, all the rest of the Others had the last name Choi except for Kai, and Kai was only half Korean. 

Kang Taehyun didn’t exist out here, on his own.

Taehyun didn’t want to close his eyes. Seeing was such a privilege, and he had no idea the next time the star would be this dim. Dim enough that he could walk around at night without giving himself away as the freak he was.

He didn’t shiver tonight. Summer was coming. He wondered if soon, he’d have the problem of overheating. How hard it would be to get enough clean water to stay hydrated. He wondered if the other boy had any tips, but… unless he offered, Taehyun wouldn’t ask for help.

Getting close to people who didn’t know his secret wasn’t possible. At school, he’d managed to make everyone think the sunglasses were a fashion statement, like these boots and coat that he’d found in dumpsters in rich neighborhoods. But in a one-on-one conversation with an adult, no matter how young? Things could get real awkward, real fast.

Being caught and killed was inevitable, but not now. 

Not yet.

##

The loop broke. 

The hopeless boy, this idiot Kim Seokjin, had finally figured out how to make it past that dratted May 23rd. 

What he’d done after had pleased Abraxus so much that he burst out laughing every time he thought about it.

Yes. Things were looking up.

Inevitably, they’d hit another snag in the progressing storyline, and Kim Seokjin would be thrown back to April 11th again. To watch all of this, again. But until then, the forward-moving timeline looked like so much fun. So much suffering for the puny humans, all because Seokjin had tried so hard to save them from themselves.

While this drama played out, he could focus on his other problem. He couldn’t help but look back to April 10th. He’d been so sure that the Chosen Boy was within the Midworld, within his grasp, only to be turned aside by a strange little mortal with angel wings and a quick way with words. It had been, perhaps, the oddest thing that had happened to Abraxus since he’d killed the Old Death.

It had shown him that humans, if properly equipped, could enter his home realm, and that was really quite something. If he could get his agents into the Midworld, surely they would learn things that would help them track down this Chosen Boy. Maybe even ways to trap him, or one of the Midworlders that walked in human skin around this blasted city.

All of it was rather chaotic, but Abraxus fed on chaos. The challenge of finding this Chosen was almost made better by the wait. The previous ones had died far too quickly. 

This one might give up a fight before succumbing.

Hmm. 

This Chosen might just have a little in common with Kim Seokjin. 

What a funny coincidence. 

Abraxus laughed once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus we say farewell to the TXT members for a bit. Next week, Part 3 begins, which consists of ten (10) whole chapters of fluff and angst and plot developments with the Bangtan boys.
> 
> I haven't titled Part 3 yet. Should figure that out before next week. Anyways, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading, and look forward to Part 3 beginning next Friday, August 7th. 
> 
> (Goodness. How is it nearly August already?)


	13. Just One Day: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously, on the BTS side of the story:_
> 
> -Jungkook made a deal with the devil. What he gets: His friends will live, and live happily. The cost: Jungkook will die, and no one will remember he existed.
> 
> -After a lot of work on Seokjin's part, it seems that he's finally broken out of the time loop with all of them alive and well. Seokjin is the only one who knows what's really going on, though Taehyung is starting to put some pieces together.
> 
> -Yoongi is pretty happy with his life. He's decided that his curse is over: he can be friends with Jungkook and not be afraid of hurting him. He also doesn't have to be afraid of getting to know his guitar-playing co-worker, Lee Jandi.
> 
> -Hoseok decided not to tell Seokjin that he occasionally takes medication he wasn't prescribed. He's strong enough, usually, thanks to his dance sessions with Jae. Jimin is doing all right, and they have enough money to live.
> 
> -As Jungkook was walking home from the hospital after their wild day at the beach, he was hit by a car. Reread the end of Euphoria: Chapter 7 if you want a full refresher on what happened.

_Say you will have me  
Safe you will keep me  
Where you would lead me  
There I would  
There I would  
There I would go_  
-A Girl in the Valley, The Secret Garden: The Musical

Chapter 1  
“You sure you’re okay to dance tonight?” Hoseok asked as he and Jimin walked out of the restaurant. 

“Yes,” Jimin said.

Just yesterday had been their wild day at the beach. A day that had ended with Jimin having a seizure several blocks from home. With Hoseok carrying his friend on his back to their apartment. Cleaning and bandaging the cuts on Jimin’s hands and forehead from falling on the concrete. Reassuring Jimin that it was okay. Jimin was a hero.

And, finally, saying that if Jimin wanted to, he could learn how to dance. It would be fun. Jae and Hoseok would love to show him some moves, and he’d be sure to pick things up quickly.

Hoseok hadn’t expected Jimin to want to start the next day, but here they were. 10:05 pm, just a few minutes away from the studio.

“By the way,” Hoseok said, “Yoongi invited us all to hang out next Saturday. I’m working, but you should totally go.”

Jimin nodded. “Any chance I’ll have to revive anyone again?”

Hoseok laughed. “Nah, you should be good. It’s just pizza. I mean, I guess pizza can kill you… but not instantly.”

Jimin smiled a little, but kept his focus forward.

He really wanted to dance.

Freaking Jae had been right once again. Super frustrating, really, how she just knew these things that completely went over his head. About his friends, no less. Kids she hardly knew. 

He was working himself up to be pretty upset at her, but then he saw her, jogging down the sidewalk with her duffel bag over her shoulder, and all of that disappeared. Seeing her was like being slapped in the face. Her hair was in a high bouncy ponytail and her eyes were judging him even from thirty feet away. It was a happy sort of judgment, though. He knew she was glad to see him.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” she said, “I mean, after the crazy text story you sent me last night.”

“Eh, I might have stayed home,” Hoseok teased, “But I couldn’t stop Jimin. He was practically begging to come, and, you know, with him being the hero of the hour and all…”

“Pretty sweet, what you did,” Jae said, nodding at Jimin.

Jimin blushed. “I mean, like, I just, it wasn’t…”

“Ready to dance, then, kid?”

“Yes!” Jimin said brightly.

“Let’s get going, then. You have a lot to learn from me, my young Padawan.”

“Hey, I can teach him, too,” Hoseok said.

“We have the perfect trio, though,” she said, “Me as Qui Gon Jin, and you can be Obi-Wan, and this is Anakin.”

“Seriously?” Hoseok said, “Star Wars?”

“I watched the film yesterday," she said. "Questionable dialogue, even more questionable delivery, but decent story overall. Young Jiminie here might just bring balance to the force."

"I'm not that young," Jimin said.

Hoseok shook his head and followed Jae and Jimin into the studio. She seemed to be much more cheery that usual. Also…

He glanced behind to make sure, but yes. Her car wasn’t out front, despite the open parking spaces. She’d always driven before. Why not tonight?

Music blared from the studio. He shook the confusion from his head and locked the door. It was time to dance.

##

Hoseok and Jae danced.

After forty minutes, they’d sent Jimin to stretch in a corner, and Jae told Hoseok she’d put together a bit of choreography to the Star Wars theme song she wanted them to try. Just for fun.

Since when had Jae done things just for fun?

The thought was quickly pushed from Hoseok’s mind because it was fun. Incredibly. The most ballet-based dancing he’d done since their competition, but her moves fit the music, and on their fourth try through, he really felt the dance in his soul. 

They broke apart, came together. She spun and leapt into his arms. He lifted her nearly above his head, muscles straining as he counted the beat before swinging her down again and into another series of turns.

As she reset the music again, Hoseok saw Jimin rummaging in his bag and grabbing Hoseok’s phone. Jimin flipped it open and answered it.

A twinge of worry hit Hoseok, but Jae was rushing to her starting position again and he pushed it away. It was probably just Tae, and he probably wanted to talk to Jimin, anyways.

He tried to keep his focus in the dance, but he kept seeing Jimin, kneeling on the floor with the phone.

There was something wrong.

_Keep dancing._

He didn’t want to know.

Still, as they went through the routine again…

“More energy!” Jae said.

…He felt more and more outside himself. Like Seokjin had really died yesterday, that nothing Jimin tried could help him, that he’d felt himself torn apart from the inside as reality shattered like glass and—

“Come on! You can’t be that weak!” Jae said.

Hoseok lifted her to his shoulder again as the music reached its crescendo. He made it through the motions.

The music stopped.

Jimin was still kneeling on the ground, holding the closed flip-phone in both his hands.

“I don’t want to insult you,” Jae said, pausing the music, “But what the flipping hell was that? It’s like you became one of those boys they forced me to partner with simply because they were the only boys at the studio. And come on, I know you can’t be that”—

She saw Jimin and stopped.

“Let’s try again,” Hoseok said, because he knew if he talked to Jimin, if he acknowledged him, everything would fall apart. Everything would…

“Hey,” Jae said, her tone shifting, “Jiminie. What’s going on?”

She approached him, and Hoseok forced himself to follow her.

“Umm,” Jimin said. “I… well…”

“I should yell at Hoseok for leaving his ringer on during practice, but who was it?”

“It… umm…” Jimin looked up at them. His eyes were blank and his lips were trembling.

Hoseok crouched next to him and took the phone. He didn’t recognize the recent number. “Was it a prank call?” he asked, even though he knew it wasn’t.

Jimin shook his head. “Umm. It was Jungkook’s mom,” he said. “She… she was… umm, she wasn’t happy.”

“Does she even know you?” Hoseok asked, “What right does she have to call you and”—

“She knows you,” he said. “And she… she wanted to know if we had anything to do… umm…” His eyes looked out of focus. Hoseok wondered if he was going to have another seizure.

Jae sat down and punched Jimin’s shoulder. “Hey,” she said, “If it’s not important, you don’t have to talk about it. But if it is, just spit it out. Then it will stop hurting faster.”

Jimin took a deep breath. “She said Jungkook was hit by a car last night.”

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room.

Jae glanced between Hoseok and Jimin. “That’s another one of your high school friends, right? One I haven’t met yet?”

Jimin nodded.

“Is he hurt?” Jae asked.

“She said…” Jimin stiffened his shoulders, “She said he’s dying.”

##

12:32 AM

The white of the hospital didn’t bother Jimin as it had last night. He wasn’t sure why. This was the place of his nightmares, the place he’d been trapped for two years.

“Yes, Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok said to the receptionist. “We just got the call. Yes, from his family. Yes, they know we’re coming, they asked us to—hey, Kangmin!”

Kangmin? Who was Kangmin?

Jimin looked up from the stark linoleum. A guy probably a little older than Hoseok was rushing over. Jimin had never met him before, but there was something familiar about his face.

“I’ll take you back,” this newcomer said. Jimin didn’t like the sound of his voice.

##

3:41 AM

The echoes of shouts came in from the hall. Only one voice. Jimin could see Hoseok’s quiet silhouette through the frosted glass.

Mrs. Jeon had been screaming at him for nearly an hour. Blaming him for what happened, even though Kangmin (who turned out to be Jungkook's stepbrother) had tried to convince his mother that Hoseok had nothing to do with the accident.

Kangmin himself was playing on his Nintendo Switch in the corner of the family room. Mr. Jeon was on a train from the Gangwon area as they spoke. He’d been at a company retreat in the mountains when the accident happened.

Jimin wondered how much longer the shouting would go on.

4:58 AM

Mr. Jeon showed up. He was on the phone with a business associate. He sat between his wife and his older son.  
Hoseok sat perfectly still on the couch next to Jimin.

6:42 AM

None other than Dr. Lee stepped into the room. “If I could have a moment with the family,” he said, avoiding eye contact with Jimin and Hoseok.

Jimin’s heart dropped and Hoseok grabbed his hand. Jimin was shocked that his legs were able to carry him out the door. He and Hoseok leaned against the wall outside.

The voices were murmurs. No words could be picked out.

6:48 AM

Dr. Lee walked out and nodded to them. “You can go back in now,” he said. 

Hoseok squeezed Jimin’s hand and they walked back in.

The family was talking in low voices and didn’t acknowledge the outsiders. Kangmin was still playing his game.

They wanted to give them privacy, but…

“I can’t do this,” Hoseok said, after a full minute had passed, “What’s going on?”

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon ignored him.

“They think he’ll live,” Kangmin said, without looking up.

Hoseok let out a sigh and pulled Jimin into a hug. Jimin could feel his whole body shaking. “Oh, thank goodness,” Hoseok said.

Jimin wondered why Jungkook’s family didn’t seem happy.

##

“I have to go to work,” Hoseok said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. They’d been here for fifteen hours.

Dr. Lee had returned several times. The family had not been quiet in their reactions, and Jimin and Hoseok had heard everything.

Jungkook’s family had as much as said they wished their son was dead instead. They’d all left a couple hours ago.

Hoseok stumbled out of the family room, leaving Jimin alone. Jimin wished there was something he could do to help him, but he couldn’t even cry anymore.

The day before yesterday. That’s when he’d been a hero. When he’d saved Seokjin. When they’d all played together, when Yoongi and Jungkook had been so terrible at volleyball. Now…

“Jimin!”

He looked up. Taehyung ran in, followed by Namjoon.

“Namjoon made me go to school, but we came as soon as it let out. Where is he? Is he okay?”

Namjoon stood back in the doorway.

“We can’t see him,” Jimin said, and Taehyung jumped.

“Whoa, your voice sounds creepy. Come on. He’s not…” Taehyung’s face went pale, “He’s not dead, is he?” His voice cracked. “Namjoon said he wasn’t dead. Said he… come on, Jimin. What’s wrong with him? He’s alive, why can’t we see him?”

“He’s pretty bad,” Jimin said, “Really badly injured. He’s not awake.”

“Oh,” Taehyung said, ducking his chin. “Um. How bad?”

“You don’t have to talk,” Namjoon interrupted, “Have you slept yet?”

Jimin shook his head. “I can tell you what happened. If. If you want to hear.”

Namjoon and Tae glanced at each other.

“Go ahead,” Namjoon said.

Just facts. Get them out. “The car hit him going at least forty miles an hour. He lost a lot of blood. Has a bad concussion. He’s paralyzed.”

“Wait, what?” Taehyung said.

“Compact fracture in his lower back. Could be worse. He’ll still be able to use his arms.” It sounded like someone else was saying the words, not himself.

“No,” Taehyung said, stepping back, “That’s not possible. He’s got to be fine. Are you sure? You sure?”

Jimin nodded.

Taehyung slowly sank onto the couch on the opposite wall, shaking his head. Jimin looked up at Namjoon. Tears were in Namjoon’s eyes.

“I don’t think I can cry anymore,” Jimin said, and he could hear what Taehyung had described as “creepy” in his voice.

Taehyung was staring blankly at the ground, shoulders tense.

Namjoon slowly walked over to Jimin. “I don’t work tonight,” he said, “Think I could sit with you for a little bit?”

Jimin didn’t say no, and Namjoon lowered himself onto the couch. Slowly, carefully, like Jimin might shatter if he moved too fast.

A few minutes passed. The silence was deafening.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Jimin whispered.

Namjoon, just as slowly and carefully as he’d sat, pulled Jimin against him. Taehyung curled up on the other couch and closed his eyes.

There was nothing else to do.

##

Friday.

Nothing much had changed.

Hoseok sat at a back table during his break. He called Yoongi again. No answer. Same with Seokjin. He didn’t know where either of them lived. The others had claimed the same.

He’d brought Jimin home a few times so the kid could take a proper shower, but Jimin always wanted to go straight back. When Jungkook woke up, he’d need a friend, and Jimin was a damn good friend to have.

That was assuming Jungkook did wake up. It was probable, but still not certain. Hoseok had overheard Mr. and Mrs. Jeon say they hoped he would quietly pass away and not feel a thing.

If Jungkook lived, he was hurt. Badly. Not able to live a normal life.

Hoseok put his head in his hands. He couldn’t be there when they had to break it to him. Jimin was the right person for that. Hoseok could picture it: Jungkook’s face, the horror that would come from hearing that you’d never walk again.

He bit his lip and forced himself to look up. His foot was twitching. His brain spinning. He hadn’t been back to dance yet because, well, Jae might ask how he was. And he might start crying in front of her and that would be terrible.

He’d slept at home. The excuse was because he still had to work. The real reason was because he was taking sleeping pills to knock himself out every evening and he didn’t want Jimin to know.

He knew it was a temporary fix. He woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept a wink, but it was better than spending eight hours staring at the ceiling while he thought about what it would be like for Jungkook to hear he was paralyzed.

To know life was going to be so different.

To know his parents wished he was dead.

Would Jungkook wish he was dead, too?

“Hoseok! I’m not paying you to sit around!”

Hoseok glanced at his watch. He’d been on break for a minute too long. He stood, every limb heavy. If only he could take more pills, fall into the deep blackness and forget that all this was happening…

“Take this order to the Conspiracy Club,” one of the cooks said.

Ah, yes. The little American girl who came in all the time with anywhere from two to five admirers. At least half of their conversations were about UFO’s or Area 51.

She had only two of them today. One was her constant companion. She never showed up without him. Hoseok had bet that he was the one the girl would end up dating. Most of his coworkers had put money on the tall one who sometimes wore glasses, but Hoseok thought he looked too grumpy.

Her second companion was the kid in the leather jacket and sunglasses, despite the fact that it was overcast and muggy. He always ate more than the rest of them combined, as long as the girl was paying.

“Here you go,” Hoseok said, sliding the tray onto their table.

“Thanks,” she said.

Hoseok started back to the counter, then turned around. There was something pleasant about their camaraderie. Something to distract him.

“Hey,” he said, walking back to their table, “You kids want sodas with this?”

The girl sighed. “We don’t have any more money.”

“Eh, it’s on me. What do you like?”

They gave him their orders, and he retrieved the sodas.

“Thanks,” she said, “But you know you don’t have to give us stuff. We just like being here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, “Most people just grab their food and run.”

Hoseok had a feeling that the boy in sunglasses was staring at him, but he couldn’t be sure.

“You look kinda sad today,” the girl continued.

“Mia,” said the one who should date her, “That’s kind of rude.”

“No! I mean, he’s usually really happy, and right now he’s not. I want him to know we notice him and he’s not a faceless servant whose only purpose is to give us french fries.”

Hoseok forced an even bigger smile. “That’s really nice of you to say,” he said, “I’m just a little tired. You know?”

“Yeah,” Mia said, “I know. But, like, you see any chance to make your life better, you take it, okay? Don’t let the system get you down!”

The creepy boy continued staring, and the not-creepy one laid his head on the table with a sigh.

“I’ll do that,” Hoseok said. “Enjoy the sodas, and lemme know if you need a refill.”

Sunglasses boy took a long and deliberate drink of his cola.

What a weird group of kids.

After another hour, they left. Hoseok kept working. He made up stories about them. How they were treasure hunters, maybe, like out of some Disney channel movie. Trying to find the lost city of Atlantis or something. There was a dramatic love-pentagon surrounding the girl, but she was oblivious to all of it until a dramatic moment where the boy Hoseok thought she’d end up with took a bullet for her, and they dramatically confessed their love for one another before he died in her arms. The ending wasn’t very Disney, but it seemed to bring the emotional arc he’d been building to a satisfying close.

He was on his second break when his phone rang.

He answered it immediately. “Kangmin? Any news?”

“Kinda,” said Jungkook’s brother. 

“And what does that mean?”

“No one is making me call you,” Kangmin said.

Hoseok bit his lip. He’d gotten the feeling that Kangmin only updated him about Jungkook because of how painful it was for Hoseok to hear it.

“Turns out there’s this crazy surgeon who thinks he might be able to fix Jungkook’s spine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Probably wouldn’t work and it’s crazy expensive, so we aren’t trying it. I mean, he might still die anyways.”

Hoseok fought back to urge to shout at Kangmin. That they were Jungkook’s family and they had to take care of him. Didn’t they know what a sweet kid he was?

But things just got worse.

“If he wakes up,” Kangmin continued, “There’s this place in Gwangju for paralyzed kids. Mother talked to them today, and we’re going to send him there.”

Hoseok couldn’t respond to this.

“Hoseok? Did you hear that? So no one will have to worry about him anymore. He was always a pain anyways, and now, it’ll just be good to have him out of the way.”

Hoseok cursed under his breath and hung up.

Went back to his shift.

He didn’t smile at the customers. Simply handed them their orders and said “Have a nice day.”

This couldn’t happen.

Jungkook’s family, just, like, gave up on him? Like that? Sending Jungkook away, to suffer through his injury on his own, with no one who loved him?

And… that surgery… if there was even a small chance…

As soon as his shift ended, Hoseok hopped on the bus to the hospital. He smelled like stale grease, but there was no time to change his clothes. He had to change the future. Had to make it better.

He went to the ICU, but not the family room where Jimin was. He asked a nurse if Dr. Lee was in surgery. He was not. He was in his office.

Hoseok knew how to read the maps, and he slid in and out of the halls until he reached the right hall.

Dr. Lee’s was at the end. He walked in without knocking.

The doctor looked up from his desk. “Jung Hoseok,” he said, with a bit of a smirk, “I was expecting you.”

Expecting him? “How?” Hoseok asked. He couldn’t identify what he was feeling.

“Kangmin has been very interested in updating you on the state of his brother, has he not?”

Hoseok nodded.

“I spoke to Jimin, and he said you got off work at ten.”

Hoseok nodded.

“It takes about twenty-three minutes to get here from your place of employment, if you run and take the metro. I expected you here five minutes ago. You had some trouble on the metro, I assume?”

“I did,” Hoseok said.

“It’s my job to disappoint you,” Dr. Lee said. “I am not allowed to give out medical information to anyone except family members.” He shuffled through some papers on his desk.

“You don’t have to,” Hoseok said, “I, well, I just need to know if… if someone paid for Jungkook’s surgery, would his parents consent to it?”

“The surgery is experimental. It hasn’t been tried before. The neurosurgeon is of my acquaintance, and he feels there is a thirty percent chance that Jungkook may walk again. But it’s very expensive, will be very painful, and has a long recovery time.”

“I have money,” Hoseok said, “I have seven thousand dollars. I can pay for it.”

“I feel that the Jeon family will not permit it,” Dr. Lee said, “However, with the right lawyer”—Hoseok’s eyes brightened at that—“The case could be made that Jungkook has the right to choose himself, and could be liberated from his parent’s authority.”

“Let’s do that, then,” Hoseok said, “I know a lawyer, and Jungkook's parents are the worst, like, who wishes their kid was dead? It’s”—

“You aren’t thinking clearly,” Dr. Lee said, “The surgery is expensive, and might not even work. If it doesn’t, Jungkook will learn to live with his disability. He’s strong. I’ve seen it plenty of times. But it will still be expensive, and in this scenario he’s a paralyzed seventeen-year-old child with no money, no diploma, and no family.”

“Family isn’t always blood,” Hoseok said.

“And you think that you,” Dr. Lee said, “A nineteen-year-old child working fast food will be able to support him? Financially? Emotionally? Is your apartment wheelchair accessable? Will you be able to afford occupational therapy, and any other complication that might come from such an injury as he has?”

“You can’t put a cash value on human life,” Hoseok said.

“And yet,” said Dr. Lee, “This is the world we live in. The most economical option is to send him to Gwangju after he recovers sufficiently, as his parents have planned.”

“You can’t do that to him.”

“And how are you, a lone minimum-wage worker, going to afford yet another charity case?”

How? How would he do it? 

“I’m not alone,” Hoseok said. “I have Jimin. And sure, he can’t really contribute financially. But there really isn’t anyone better to support you emotionally, and I should know. Also, he’s so freaking great in a crisis. You have no idea.”

“I happen to remember that he saved the life of a different friend of yours. Just a few hours before Jungkook was injured.”

Hoseok’s mind was spinning through possibilities. “I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal with the schools. There’s so much online stuff. Maybe he can do school from home. Our friend Namjoon is crazy smart, even if he never graduated. I know he could help him, and Taehyung, too, and then Jungkook could finish high school, maybe even on time. Might help Tae stay in school, too, if he had a reason to.”

“Money,” said Dr. Lee, “You’ve forgotten about the money.”

“I have this friend. Choi Jaeyeun. My dance partner. We won twenty thousand bucks a couple weeks ago, and I’m sure we can do it again.”

Dr. Lee frowned.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Hoseok said, “But, like, I’m really lucky, generally. Things go my way a lot. In little ways, of course. Still haven’t gotten a promotion, but, like, the dance competition came right when I needed it. And I met Jimin in time to save his life, and then he and Tae saved Seokjin. And before that, Jungkook saved Yoongi. I saved Taehyung. It’s what we do.”

“Save each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound sustainable.”

“It has to be,” Hoseok said, with so much conviction that Dr. Lee raised his eyebrows.

“And if it fails? This little plan of yours?”

“Then it fails,” Hoseok said, “And we still give it our best.”

Dr. Lee nodded. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” A small smile spread across his face. “You have connections with a lawyer?”

“Yes,” Hoseok said. “He already helped Jimin and has nearly closed Tae’s case.”

“I’ve already spoken to the surgeon. Assuming Jungkook wakes up in time to make his decision, the surgery is scheduled for a week from today. All will change if he decides against it, and I would not blame him if he did.”

Hoseok blinked. “And how much will it cost? I can get loans if it is more than I have…”

“Don’t worry about the surgery. Dr. Baek and I are old friends. However, the recovery will be long and very expensive.”

“I told you, I have seven thousand”—

“Think three times that much.”

Hoseok closed his eyes. “I have to,” he said, “I’ll find a way.”

Dr. Lee stood and walked to the window. “I’m very intrigued,” he said, “By the situations of the past, oh, six weeks? I’ve seen bits and pieces of your little group far more than I’ve seen any single group of friends ever. The amount of injuries and tragedies that seem to have hit you, always bringing you in when I’m on shift, it’s, well, alarming.”

“Wait, what? What does this have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know,” Dr. Lee said, “But I want to see how it ends. Don’t lose hope, Hoseok. If I wasn’t putting my daughter through medical school, I’d pay for it all, simply to see how it played out. Still, I’ll see what I can do. There are a lot of strings I can pull, now that I know you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

“What?”

Dr. Lee turned to him. “It will cost a lot of money, but if your luck holds, you’ll be all right. But… hmmm… there’s seven of you, right? You were all here last Saturday.”

“Yeah.”

“How come only four have come to check in on Jungkook?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Yoongi won’t pick up his phone. He probably forgot about it in the midst of his music and let the battery die. I talked to Seokjin the day after the accident, and, like, he said he was going to come. But I’ve called him a couple more times and it goes straight to voicemail. I have no idea where he is.”

“I hope you find them,” he said. “I feel you’ll need all seven of you to make it through this. Do you have any more questions for me?”

“I don’t know. Umm. Thank you?” Everything was still a blur in Hoseok’s mind. “I think I’ll go see Jimin. And then I’ll call my lawyer, and see if he’s up for this case. Thank you, Dr. Lee. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Hoseok turned to leave.

“One more thing,” said Dr. Lee, and Hoseok froze with his hand on the door handle. “Quit the sleeping pills.”

“What, I’m not, you think I have money for”—

“I don’t think you have money for whatever it is you’re taking. But trust me: it won’t help.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You need to be, if you expect to take care of them.”

Hoseok stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

###

After leaving Jimin, and with a promise from his lawyer that by the end of the week things would be settled with Jungkook, Hoseok thought back to what Dr. Lee had said.

About the sleeping pills.

Was it really that obvious?

Hoseok snorted. Dr. Lee didn’t know anything. Hoseok was okay. They were just sleeping pills. He hadn’t taken anything else, and he wouldn’t. Sure, he had something stronger, but he wouldn’t take it. And even if he did, he’d taken them before and been totally fine after. It wasn’t any of Dr. Lee’s business, what he did with his own life.

Unless maybe it was.

Dr. Lee was the reason that Jungkook wasn’t going to be sent to some hospital in Gwangju. Dr. Lee knew the neurosurgeon willing to try the surgery for no cost. Dr. Lee said he couldn’t cover all of the recovery expenses, but that he’d contribute some.

Dr. Lee had decided to break some major patient-doctor confidentiality laws in the interest of Jungkook making it through this.

Hoseok reached the front doors. Well, he just wouldn’t take the pills, then. He could stop. He was fine. He’d just go home and go to bed and—

_Lying dead in a stairwell, rats crawling all over him, bugs eating his eyes and—_

Hoseok stumbled in the parking lot.

God.

What was wrong with him.

Why couldn’t he stop seeing that.

He couldn’t go home. Not now. His body was exhausted but his mind was a star about to go supernova. 

He pulled out his phone and called Jae.

“Yo,” she answered.

“You still at the studio?”

“Yup.”

“Think I could come by?”

“Sure.”

“Umm, Jae?”

“What?”

Hoseok’s voice caught in his throat. “Umm, I need to dance, you know?”

“I know.”

“But, like, I…” God. What was wrong with him. “Nevermind. I’m just going home.” His voice was shaking.

“No,” she said.

“Huh?”

“It’s been five days.”

“But you don’t get it, I’m, like…” God, he hated this. His chest going all tight. He blinked away the tears. “You don’t want me there right now.”

“Crying and dancing go hand in hand,” she said. “You should have seen me senior year.”

“What?”

She sighed, loudly. “You’re a flipping idiot. Get over here and dance. There’s a time to dance and a time to cry, or whatever. If they happen at the same time tonight, I won’t judge you.”

“Really?” Hoseok asked.

“You seriously think so little of me,” she said. “If you’re just leaving the hospital…”

“How’d you know that?”

“You’re the idiot, not me. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“I’ll make it in twenty-three minutes.”

“Better run.”

She hung up without saying goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to BTS!! 
> 
> I feel that _Nap of a Star_ was, overall, pretty happy. In the ten chapters of _Just One Day,_ we go back to the slightly more depressing tone of Part 1. You can expect a mixture of fluff, angst, pain, recovery, mystery, and a little bit of romance. But not much romance. I really am not a romantic person myself, and prefer to focus on friendships, but... the Highlight Reels exist and I gotta work them into my story.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. If there is anything that confuses you, or that you don't remember clearly from part 1, don't hesitate to ask! I love reading comments and reactions.
> 
> Just One Day: Chapter 2 will be posted next Friday, August 14th.


	14. Just One Day: Chapter 2

“Wake up.”

But the darkness was so sweet. Hoseok clung to it, to the sweet nothing. Truly sweet, not the fake-sweet that the pills gave him.

“Seriously. This is not my job, but you have one, and you’re going to be late.”

What? That wasn't Jimin's voice.

Why was there a girl here?

“Open your eyes, idiot,” she said.

He opened them.

Jae was standing in his room, staring down at him. Sun poured in through the window.

“What?” Hoseok said.

“I said open your eyes, idiot. Now I will progress to something a little more difficult: Get out of bed, idiot. There’s breakfast in the kitchen. If you aren’t there in two minutes, I’m coming back with a bucket of water.”

She turned and left the room. 

Hoseok looked up at the bunk above him. Technically, that was his bed. Jimin slept on the bottom bunk, in case he had a seizure during the night. 

Hoseok forced his memories to the night before, trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

_Dancing with Jae, tears running down his face._

_Stumbling, collapsing in the corner. Shaking all over. The nightmares and the exhaustion and the stress. That’s all it was. But why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he push through?_

_Jae crouching in front of him. Her cold eyes meeting his. “You need help,” she’d said._

_“Just give me a minute. I’ll be”—_

_“Shut up.”_

_She’d walked him home._

_Made him instant ramen._

_Watched him while he ate it._

_Shoved him into the bathroom with his pajamas, and when he he came back out, she’d shoved him into his bed._

_“I won’t be able to sleep,” he’d said. “I can’t.” “Yeah, you can,” she said. “Just close your eyes. Count to ten.”_

_“No. No. Not again.”_

_“Then I’ll do it. One… two… three… four…”_

_The nightmares of his childhood and the here and now melded together at the sound of her voice. Sleep had nearly taken him and…_

Well, he must have been dreaming at this point, because he remembered her fingers running through his hair, and her saying “Now, was that so hard?” and then, craziest of all, he remembered her kissing his forehead before leaving the room.

Definitely a dream.

“You have no buckets,” Jae called from the kitchen, “But I found a pitcher.” The sink turned on, and he had no doubt she was serious. He grabbed a clean work shirt and pants and hurried across to the bathroom.

“One more second, just hold on,” he said.

##

Hoseok figured he owed Jae something, but he didn’t know what. Or how. His quick shower had showed him that she’d cleaned the bathroom, and when he came out he realized she’d swept the living room and washed the dishes that had accumulated in the past week. Also, a bunch of laundry was hanging up to dry and the machine was going with another load.

He sat down on the other side of the floor desk that served as a dining table and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ramen? For breakfast?”

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” she said.

“What? Really?”

“Yes. Your shift starts at four. Eat.”

He ate.

“Taehyung called.”

“You’re answering my phone now, too?”

“Would you rather me let your friends worry that they can’t contact you?”

“Sorry,” Hoseok said. He really had no idea what was going on in his head. “What did Taehyung say?”

“That he was staying with Jimin all day, and they might be able to go see Jungkook later in the afternoon.”

“Is he awake?”

“No. But the doctors think soon.”

“Have they heard from Seokjin or Yoongi?”

“No. But Namjoon was there this morning, as well, until he had to go to work at noon.”

She said it all in a cool monotone.

Hoseok ate his ramen. She ate hers. She made no further attempts at conversation. She simply sat, her hair pulled back in the messiest ponytail, wearing the same clothes she’d worn yesterday.

“Why?” he asked, at last.

She raised her eyebrows in response.

“Why are you here?”

She smirked. “You are a mystery,” she said.

“And what does that mean?”

“Of course I am here. We’re partners. You fell apart last night and needed help.”

Hoseok’s face went red. “I would have been fine,” he said, “If I’d just had”—

“You weren’t fine,” she said, “And it’s okay to be not fine sometimes.”

“You’re always fine.”

“Now, maybe. Not always before. And I’m sure not always future.”

“So you just invited yourself over to my house.”

“Because you needed to sleep. And clean.”

“Where did you sleep?” he asked.

“Your couch is very comfortable,” she said.

“I know. It was my bed for like a year,” he said.

“You’ll be late if you don’t leave for work.”

“You’re not my mother,” he said.

“Not at all,” she said, “But I will still hang up this load of laundry before I leave.”

He nodded, and looked around again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

“And thank you.”

“It’s very little trouble to me.”

“I’ll go to work, then. You can let yourself out?”

She nodded.

He walked to the door and slid on his shoes.

“I know you’d do the same for me,” she said as he opened the door.

He turned back and looked at her, still sitting cross-legged next to the table. The most beautiful woman in the world was here, in his house, and he had to go to work.

(Also, like, she was definitely not into him. This was definitely just because they were dance partners. Because she was a good person, and he’d needed a good person last night.)

“Definitely,” he said in response, and closed the door.

##

“So, I thought you were hanging out with Jungkook this afternoon,” Jandi said. She sat cross-legged on the couch in Yoongi’s landlady’s living room, plucking out a melody on her guitar.

“That was the plan,” he said, “Taehyung and Jimin, too. But none of them showed.” He’d sat in the pizza place for an hour waiting for them. They must have forgotten. They might have texted him to tell him, but he wasn’t even sure where he’d left his dead phone in this apartment. 

“Good thing I was off at four, you know? You might have died of boredom without me.”

“You ready to play, or what?”

She struck a chord. “Let’s go.”

The music carried them away for an hour, and then two. They played some classical pieces and pop hits, and he was surprised at how she made her own twangy style fit with each tune. She introduced him to a few Irish melodies, and he improvised as she played and sang. Her voice wasn’t half bad.

“Now, give me something you’ve done,” she said.

He smirked. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up.”

“Conceited, much? I’ve listened to you play for weeks. I think I can jump in.”

He shrugged, and turned back to the piano. He brushed his fingers over the keys for a moment, feeling their warmth and the sweet music held beneath them. He took a deep breath, and then he began.

This piece was one he’d written in the first weeks after he’d met Jungkook and the rest. While they were still, technically, in the process of completing their detention. In fact, this combination of chords and notes and progressions is what had drawn Jungkook to him, and, after that, the rest of them.

They liked him.

They liked his music.

They didn’t ask where it came from, or what he intended to do with his life, or how he thought he could make any sort of decent living with the music he made.

They didn’t know, or even suspect, what he’d done.

“That’s a flipping awesome song.”

Her voice interrupted his inner thoughts. He finished the phrase and let his hands pause.

“But you are right,” she continued, “I can’t keep through to the end. I’m exhausted, and we’ve been playing for, like, ten minutes.”

“There is no end to this piece,” Yoongi said.

“I have never met a pianist as perfect as you,” she said.

He shrugged. “I still only make eight bucks an hour.”

“I mean you never mess up. Not once in these weeks have you missed a single note or chord. It’s ridiculous.”

“Years of practice,” he lied, looking at the stack of classical practice books the old lady had stacked on the piano. One of the cats was sitting on top, but he didn’t think it was bothered by the music. Seemed to be enjoying it, even, from behind its mismatched eyes.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, “I have the late shift tonight, so I’d better head out. You’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Yup.” He closed the piano and stood.

“Should check up on your friends,” she said, zipping her guitar back into the case.

He pulled out a cigarette, then reached into his pocket for his lighter. It wasn’t there. He checked his other pockets, wondering where the hell he might have put it, when—

“Looking for this?” Jandi said in a slightly evil voice. He looked up, and she was holding it up.

“Hey, give that back.”

“Huh-uh. Not gonna do it.” She slid the lighter into the pocket of the skirt she was wearing. She pulled something else out and threw it at him. He caught it before it hit him in the face.

“Try that instead,” she said, smiling and tilting her head back. The light was behind her, and her messy pigtails made a very punk silhouette that Yoongi found strangely appealing.

He looked at the object he’d caught.

“A lollypop?”

“Yes! Perfect exchange, right?”

“Umm.”

“Trade one addiction for another. They say sugar is eight times as addictive as Cocaine.”

“But a lollypop won’t kill you.”

“Exactly my point.”

He followed her to the door.

“Just try to quit,” she said, turning to him. She turned on her heels. The boots she wore made her a good bit taller than normal, but she was still short. She stepped closer to him, far too close, so he had to look almost straight down to meet her eyes.

She looked up at him through her green contacts. “Do it for me,” she whispered, her fingers brushing his jawline, “I hate the taste of cigarettes.”

Before Yoongi could breathe again, she’d opened the door and disappeared.

Why had she said that? She didn’t smoke and no one was making her, what did it matter to him if she hated the taste of cigarettes—

God, she didn’t want to kiss him, did she? No way. Music. That was all he loved in this world. Girls weren’t necessary. In fact, they were probably a distraction and his curse probably wouldn’t let him be close to one, anyways.

Also, Jandi seemed just as in love with music as he was. That guitar might as well be her boyfriend. Probably closer to her height than any actual guy. She was so flipping short…

He remembered how she looked, staring up at him just now. The feel of her touch. The idea flitted through his mind that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to kiss her. Of anyone, she’d be the sort to understand that music always took first place in his life. Might even be okay with the fact that Jungkook was second.

Would a girl want to go out with him if she was third-place?

God. Why was he even thinking about this? He wouldn’t have invited her over if Jungkook had showed up, like they’d planned. Tae and Jimin, too. His supposed friends hadn’t even let him know they were ditching.

Well, maybe they had. He should really find his phone. He went into his closet of a bedroom and searched to no avail. He opened every drawer in the living area, dug through the piano bench, and then, finally, pulled up the couch cushions.

There it was. He grabbed it. Dead, of course. He dug the charger out of a drawer and plugged it in. The phone showed an update screen as the power leaked through, and he set it on the back of the couch.

He replaced the cushions and flopped down. He pulled out the lollypop from his pocket. Lemonade flavored. One of the little ones they gave you at the doctor’s office when you were a kid.

It tasted fine. Definitely no replacement for a cigarette, but he didn’t quite feel desperate enough to go to the convenience store for another lighter. Jandi had won, at least for a little bit.

And now he was thinking about her again. Damn. Impossible to get her out of his mind with this sugary candy in his mouth. He wondered if this was her favorite flavor, or just something random she happened to have with her. 

His phone buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed again.

He sat up and grabbed it.

Old texts were flying in. Thirty, forty of them. From Tae. Hoseok. Namjoon. Voicemails, too. Dozens.

None were from Jungkook.

He went to the voicemails first. Scrolled back to the oldest one—from Hoseok, last Monday, at one in the morning? What the hell?

He pushed play.

It was Jimin’s voice.

Sounded like he’d been crying.

“Hoseok couldn’t call,” Jimin said, “And I’m sorry we waited this long. But it’s been a lot. You should come down here. Umm, the hospital.”

That was it.

He played the next one, from an hour later.

“I guess I didn’t say much last time,” Jimin continued. “But you really need to get down here. You might still be asleep, I guess. But when you wake up, unless you have to work. Umm. Even if you do, you might should see if you can take it off.”

Everything had gone perfectly still. Yoongi would have sworn his heart had stopped.

“It’s Jungkook. He’s been in an accident. He’s hurt really bad. Just get here, okay?”

##

On the way to the hospital, Yoongi had listened to a scattering of other voicemails. All of them said the same thing: Get here as soon as possible.

Now, he sat on a couch in the room Jimin had apparently been living in for the past week. Taehyung was here, too. 

They’d told him what had happened.

He had to process what it meant.

On Saturday night—or, early Sunday morning—he’d left Jungkook in the parking lot of this very hospital.

An hour later (why in the world had Jungkook gone for a walk, instead of going home?), Jungkook had been hit by a car on a back street with no security cameras. The police had concluded the car was doing forty in a twenty-five.

The driver hadn’t called an ambulance. The driver hadn’t even stopped. The driver had just left Jungkook on the pavement to die.

It had been late. No one was around. No one saw anything. They estimated Jungkook was lying there, bleeding, for twenty minutes before a woman walking home noticed him and called the ambulance.

He was in and out of surgery for hours. Broken ribs. Concussion. Punctured lung. Once, his heart had stopped. 

Today, they were pretty sure he’d live. 

He’d live, and he’d never walk again. 

(Sure, Jimin was all hopeful about this surgery they might try, but that sounded too crazy and desperate to Yoongi. More likely, something would go wrong and the surgery would kill him. Or things would fall through and it would never happen. That was how the world worked.)

“Umm,” Jimin said, and Yoongi looked up. “I’m glad you came today,” he continued.

Yeah. Showing up six days after his best friend was nearly killed. Great person he was.

When Yoongi didn’t say anything, Jimin continued. “In an hour, they’re going to let a couple of us go in and see him. They don’t think he’ll be awake, but at least, you know. We’ll be there for him.”

Yes.

Go see Jungkook.

What a perfectly grand idea. Nothing at all could go wrong with that.

“No,” Yoongi said.

“Come on,” Jimin said, “You’ve got to see him. And, I know you work, but if you could be here, after he wakes up”—

“No,” Yoongi said again.

Jimin looked concerned. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but. He’s going to be okay.”

“No,” Yoongi said. “He won’t be okay. This is my fault, don’t try and convince me otherwise.” He stood up. “I’m leaving. Don’t call me again. Don’t try to find me.”

Jimin’s face went pale. “Yoongi, just take a second, it’ll be”—

“Don’t worry about me, either,” he said, “I promised him I wouldn’t kill myself and I won’t. But I can’t see him again.”

“Come on, Yoongi, even if the surgery doesn’t work—especially if it doesn’t—he’s gonna need every friend he’s got”—

“You’re going to have to be enough for the both of us then.” He stared Jimin in the eye. “You’re the sort of person who saves their friends. I’m the sort of person who hurts them.”

“I know you, though,” Jimin said, “You’d never hurt anyone.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi said. His hands were shaking, so he shoved them in his pockets and slouched towards the door. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Yoongi kept a brave face until he was outside. He barely made it to a bench in the smokers’ area before his knees went out. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, only to remember he didn’t have a lighter. He swore to himself, failed at putting the cigarette back in the box, and smashed it into the ground with his heel.

He pressed a hand over his mouth and forced himself to breathe, but air was a valuable commodity he didn’t have the money to buy.

He’d been wrong.

The curse would never leave him.

The devil would play with him until Yoongi accepted that music wasn’t just his first love, but his only love.

Anything else he touched would burn.

The image of Jungkook dying on the pavement—

_Dead on the pavement—_

He swore.

“Yo,” Taehyung said from somewhere to his right.

“I said not to follow me,” Yoongi said. 

“Yeah, I’m not so good at following rules.”

Yoongi wanted to cuss him out, but he was afraid he might cry if he opened his mouth again.

Taehyung sat down on the other end of the bench. “Unless you really quit for good this time, I’ll give you a light.”

In five seconds, Yoongi had a lit cigarette and was wondering when smoking had gone from something he did because it looked cool to something he couldn’t live without.

“I know what you meant, up there,” Taehyung said. “About it being your fault. And I don’t mean to make you feel bad by saying that.”

“I don’t feel bad,” Yoongi said, “It’s the honest truth.”

“It’s not just because you were the last of us to talk to him, either.” There was a strange edge in Tae’s voice. Yoongi glanced at him. His eyes… his eyes were intense. Knowing.

“There’s something wrong with some of us,” Taehyung said, “Something off. Broken. Dangerous.”

Yoongi nodded.

“Are we really never going to see you again?”

“Not if I can help it,” Yoongi said.

“Then can I ask your advice, before you leave?”

“No.”

“Come on. I gave you a light and you aren’t going to help me with one little problem?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything, and Taehyung must have thought that meant “go ahead.”

“We haven’t heard from Seokjin,” Taehyung said. “Hoseok told him what happened, and he said he was coming, but he hasn’t showed. Any more calls went straight to voicemail.”

Yoongi shrugged. “My advice? Leave him alone.”

“I’m not done. Haven’t you thought it strange, about how Seokjin came back and, well, all this happened?”

“No,” Yoongi said, “Life sucked before and will continue to suck. Not his fault.”

“But doesn’t he seem to know just a little too much about what’s coming?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to deny this, but stopped. He remembered Seokjin finding him in the bar on April 11th. Almost certainly stealing his lighter, on that first day he’d planned to kill himself. Telling him where Jungkook was. Where Jungkook had nearly fallen off a building to his death. To a death that Yoongi could almost remember happening, even though it was impossible, because Jungkook wasn’t dead. He hadn’t fallen on April 11th.

He’d been hit by a car on May 23rd, because Yoongi had thought that his curse was over.

“I had a dream, once,” Taehyung said, quietly, “Woke me up in a panic, it felt so real. I ran out of my house and to an apartment I’d never visited before, because I needed to know if Seokjin was there. I needed to know if he was alive.”

Taehyung looked down at his shoes. “He was. And he was exactly where I thought he’d be. And by the end of the day, he had six of us together in Namjoon’s house. You remember that day, right?”

“I remember,” Yoongi said.

“You want to know what sort of dream I had?” Taehyung said.

“A dream that was so real you thought it was a memory,” Yoongi said.

“A dream,” Taehyung said, and now his voice was shaking a little, “Where I stabbed Seokjin instead of my father, and he died in my arms.”

Yoongi shuddered.

Taehyung took a deep breath. “I think he’s like us, and I think I should go see him.”

“I can’t believe Jimin hasn’t forced you to yet.”

Taehyung laughed. “Jimin can’t force anyone to do anything,” he said, “And also, no one knows I know where Seokjin is.”

The cigarette was burning low. Yoongi stood and slowly walked towards the ashtray.

“This is the advice I’m asking for,” said Taehyung, “Should I go see him?”

“I don’t fricking care what you do,” Yoongi said. “As long as you don’t try to find me.”

Taehyung smirked. “Just the answer I was looking for.”

##

On his way back to the ICU, Taehyung slid the lighter back into the woman’s purse he had snagged it from. It wasn’t really stealing if you put it back before it was missed, right?

Yoongi knew. Yoongi knew something was up. Taehyung wasn’t crazy, with the weird nightmares and the strange memories that never happened. This was real, and it was weird, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

He marched into the family room feeling like a million bucks.

Then he saw Jimin, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. His knees were hugged up to his chest, and his were eyes shiny with tears.

“Hey, don’t let Yoongi get you down,” Taehyung said, “He’s just got to handle this in his own way, okay? He’ll be back. Just in his own time.”

Jimin shook his head and sniffed. “It’s not that. It’s… It’s…”

Taehyung took a deep breath. He wasn’t great with this emotional stuff, especially after the interesting news he’d just heard. Now, if he could share his thoughts with Jimin—

But no.

He sat cross-legged in front of Jimin.

“What is it, then?”

“I can’t do it,” Jimin said.

Taehyung blinked. “Huh?”

“I can’t be enough of a friend to him without Yoongi. God, I’ve been waiting for Yoongi to show up all week, and now he’s just leaving again?”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Taehyung said, “What’s this really about?”

Jimin glared at Taehyung. “I’m not lying,” he said, “Yoongi’s a jerk to just leave me here and…” Jimin’s voice caught. He sighed and closed his eyes. Tears slid out and down his cheeks.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Taehyung said, halfway teasing.

But Jimin nodded his head.

“Hey,” Taehyung said, “What do you have to be scared about?”

“Time’s moving again,” Jimin whispered, “It’s been frozen these past six days, and as soon as I go in to see him, as soon as he wakes up, well, it’s going to move again. And I have to do something. I have to be there for him. And it’s going to be awful and I don’t think I can do it, I can’t do it, Tae, I can’t do this, I have to go home, I can’t, I”—

Tae bit the inside of his lip. “Umm,” he said, “Yeah, it’s gonna be really rough. You’re right.”

“See? You know. And Yoongi’s just left me here to do it alone. And I can’t. I can’t.”

“Come on. Open your eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Just open them.”

Jimin did.

“Look. You aren’t alone, stupid,” Taehyung said, “Who needs Yoongi when you’ve got me?”

“You promise you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” Taehyung said. “Now, let’s go see Jungkook.”

##

“Yoongi. Yoongi, come on, kid. Look at me.”

The only one of his friends older than him was Seokjin.

Seokjin, who knew too much.

Seokjin, who was messing with their heads.

What had Seokjin received in exchange for his soul?

“Yoongi. Seriously. You’ve had enough.”

This voice was not Seokjin.

This voice was a girl.

He forced his eyes open. Pushed himself off the table. The room spun around him.

Jandi was sitting in front of him. Her lips a bright cherry red. Her eyes that unnatural shade of green. She’d drawn a constellation on her left cheek, but was otherwise unchanged from their session earlier.

What the frick was she doing here? Sitting at his table?

Didn’t she know what he was? What would happen to her if she didn’t stay away?

Yes.

This was why he’d come here, even though he wasn’t working.

To tell her he never wanted to see her again. He was all ready to. Had every insult prepared.

He’d sat down in the bar. Seen her in the corner, strumming out some easy tune on her guitar. And she’d looked so perfect, sounded so perfect, that he knew he’d need to be drunk to lie to her.

The time was here.

Now.

“Come on. You need to go home.”

He let her take his arm. Leaned against her a little as they stumbled out of the bar. He still wanted to keep his job.

A few blocks later (maybe, everything was fuzzy and spinning), he pulled away from her. She stumbled as she lost her grip on his arm, her guitar nearly unbalancing her.

“Come on, Yoongi, I’m just taking you home. You’re drunk.”

“I know,” he said, “I am drunk. And you are not, are not coming home with me.” He really was drunk. It took all he had to stay standing, to stay focused on what he had to say to her.

“Yoongi”—

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted.

She didn’t touch him.

She stepped back.

For a moment, the drunken fog cleared, and he saw her. Her punk hair with the colored streaks, her narrow shoulders hiding under a leather jacket, and those boots with the laces so long she had to wrap them around her ankles before tying them.

For a moment, he pictured the life he could have.

A life where this girl was his girlfriend.

A life where Jungkook was unhurt and happy.

A life that, whenever he tried to pursue happiness outside of music, he’d find it.

But that wasn’t real life. He’d ruined his real life when he was fourteen years old.

He wouldn’t ruin her life, too.

The moment of clarity was gone, and all the words he’d planned to say to her came rushing back.

##

Yoongi woke up in a cold room.

In a moment, he realized this must be jail.

Panic flooded over him. His head was pounding. He must have gotten really drunk. Why? What had he done? What had—

Jandi. He remembered Jandi.

He hadn’t hurt her, had he?

No. Well, he hadn’t hit her. His words, on the other hand… but it wasn’t illegal to yell at someone.

So why was he here?

He remembered the look on her face that made him feel so bad he wanted to go step in front of a speeding car. But he’d promised he wouldn’t do that.

He’d promised Jungkook.

He’d needed more soju.

And that’s where his memory stopped.

He sat quietly in the corner of the room. There were a few other men, all with obvious hangovers, and no one approached him.

Why was he here?

After what seemed like hours, an officer came and unlocked the door. “Min Yoongi, come with me.”

Min Yoongi went. Quietly, respectfully. Whatever he’d done to get himself thrown in jail overnight, he was sorry.

Taehyung had been in jail overnight plenty of times. Always managed to avoid getting sent to juvie, though. A couple weeks ago, he’d said that the chief at this station had practically admitted to being a fan of his graffiti work, and picking Tae up was just a formality.

The officer led Yoongi into a room and had him sit down. “Wait here.”

Yoongi was alone.

Well, he wasn’t chained to a desk, so he hadn’t killed anyone. That was something to be glad of.

The door opened.

Yoongi’s jaw dropped open as his boss from the bar walked in.

“Thank you, Officer Baek,” said his boss, Kim Hyunwoo.

“I’ll finish the paperwork and be back in ten minutes,” said the officer, and he closed the door.

Mr. Kim sat across from Yoongi.

“Rough night?” he said.

Yoongi couldn’t find the words.

“You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

Yoongi shook his head. Great. What had he done?

“You left my bar last night with Miss Lee, who intended to take you home. As you and Miss Lee seemed to be getting along, I had no reason to be concerned. It appears that after that, you had a verbal altercation with Miss Lee, after which she left you on the street corner. You were next seen at a convenience store a few blocks away, and when you couldn’t produce your ID and the clerk wouldn’t sell you any soju, you knocked over a display of candy bars and passed out in the entryway.”

Yoongi cringed. At least when Tae was picked up by the cops, he was doing something cool.

“There’s a six hundred dollar fine,” said Mr. Kim, and Yoongi cringed more deeply. “If you can’t pay it, you’ll spend three months in jail.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “You can’t pay it, can you?”

Well, duh. “Why are you here?” Yoongi asked, his voice quiet.

“Miss Lee was very concerned about you,” he said, “So she called me. Told me you were drunk out of your mind, wandering the streets, and had no ID on you because she’d picked your pocket.”

“She what?”

“She was apparently concerned you were going to do exactly what you did,” he said.

Yoongi nodded. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Your piano music draws in customers. I don’t want you in jail for three months. I’ve paid your fine, but I need something from you.”

Damn.

“You’re a bright young man. Troubled, but bright, and incredibly talented. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but you have a good job and you need to keep it if you want to move forward.”

“Who says I want to move forward?”

Mr. Kim stared at him. “You want to move forward,” he said, “Your music is the best I’ve heard. If you keep moving, in six months I won’t be able to afford to keep you.”

“May I have a moment to consider?” Yoongi asked.

“Take as much time as you need.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. His brain was still pounding. However, he knew what this was: A deal. He doubted Mr. Kim had any sinister double meanings in the offer, but there was one more thing Yoongi wanted.

“I want something, too,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“If I’m going to work for you, I need something in return. Something real.”

“I’m paying your fine and getting you out of jail,” Mr. Kim said, annoyance in his voice, “I think that should be sufficient.”

“My music will pay you back for that in two weeks. I need something I want,” Yoongi said, “That’s all I ask.”

Mr. Kim leaned forward on the table. “I only give raises quarterly.”

“I don’t need more money,” Yoongi said. “It’s about…” he took a moment before he could say it, “Miss Lee.”

Mr. Kim leaned back, one eyebrow raised.

“I need you to talk to her and let her know that her continued employment depends on her never speaking to me again.”

“I can’t do that,” he said.

“Then you can just leave me here.”

Mr. Kim stood and paced for a moment.

“It’s illegal to require one employee not to communicate with another. However, I will talk to Miss Lee, and inform her that unless it is vitally necessary to complete her required duties, you do not want to talk to her. However, looking at what you told her last night, I'd be shocked if she wanted to talk to you again. You’re lucky she didn’t knock your teeth out.”

Yoongi smirked. “Looks like we have a deal.”

##

That evening, he was back at work.

As Jandi played for the dinner crowd, she didn’t even look at him.

He went outside for his break. Ate his dinner. Smoked a cigarette. But only one.

Jandi did not join him. He went in to play piano for the rest of the night, and she was gone.

Mr. Kim was tending the bar, as he did several times a week. At one in the morning, Yoongi’s shift ended. He nodded at the man who had loaned him six hundred dollars and given him a second chance.

As he walked home, he smoked a cigarette. But only one.

He entered the apartment. The old lady who owned it was in the kitchen, humming to herself.

“Yoongi,” she said, “Would you like a snack? I brought back some special treats from Busan.”

He almost said yes.

Almost.

His eyes met Mrs. Park’s. She may have been seventy years old, but she seemed to have more life in front of her than he’d ever had. At least, if he kept her as simply his landlady and nothing more affectionate.

He was not someone you should share treats with.

“No, but thank you,” he said, and bowed, “I’ll just be going to bed.”

She nodded. “Goodnight, then.”

He shut himself in his room.

Lay down on the bed.

This was his life now. Work. Eat. Try to limit the smoking. Music. Sleep.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Hope beyond hope that maybe, with the curse away from him. Jungkook might find a way to live again. That he might decide Jimin or Hoseok or Taehyung were much better people to have as best friends.

He imagined what it would have been like. To be hit out of nowhere. The pain and fear Jungkook must have felt, if only for a moment or two before blackness settled on him. How scary it would be when he woke up.

It was all his fault. It should have been so easy, just staying away from Jungkook, realizing that liking the kid would do nothing but make the fates hurt him. But he was too weak to even do that. Pathetic, weak, idiot… and now Jungkook…

He hugged his pillow over his face and hoped Mrs. Park wouldn’t hear him sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there's some light coming in the darkness that surrounds these characters. More bad stuff, too, but it's not all bad... There is hope...
> 
> On a more personal/behind-the-scenes note, I've finished drafting through Part 6 and I'll be spending the next week reading through the entirety of the working draft and editing for plot continuity and details. The draft is now 195k words, so this story will continue to update weekly for quite some time. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll see you again next Friday, August 21, for Just One Day: Chapter 3.


	15. Just One Day: Chapter 3

Taehyung knocked on Seokjin’s door.

It had been two days since he’d decided to do this, but there had been school, which Namjoon said he couldn’t skip, and hanging with Jimin at the hospital. He’d planned on going to the hospital straight after school again today… but they really needed to know what Seokjin was doing.

He knocked again.

No response.

His phone buzzed.

_He’s awake,_ Jimin texted from Hoseok’s phone. _But Dr. Lee isn’t here, and they won’t let us seem him until he is.When’s he coming?_

Jimin: _He’s not scheduled until six._

Taehyung: _Cool. I’ll be there soon._

His battery was low, but it would last. He’d only be here for a minute. Tae slid his phone in his pocket and stared at the door.

He knocked once more.

He was pretty sure Seokjin hadn’t killed himself, because, well… wouldn’t that have made things change again? Go back to the day he’d woken from the nightmare?

But just because he wasn’t dead didn’t mean he was okay.

He might just be handling the news of Jungkook’s injury in his own way. Taehyung wasn’t sure what had brought Seokjin back to Korea. Work? School? Something to do with his family? He might be doing things with them.

Or maybe he’d run off to America again without telling them.

He knocked once more. Louder.

It was four in the afternoon. He probably wasn’t home.

But…

If he wasn’t home…

Tae looked at the keypad.

Seokjin knew _something_. It was hard to know what, since Taehyung hardly knew what was wrong himself.

He glanced around. No one was watching. Not that he was really breaking any laws. He and Seokjin were friends.

He held his breath and typed 0411.

It didn’t work.

There were endless possibilities in the four digits, but he’d thought for sure Seokjin would have used that significant date. The date it all came back to, every time, when every nightmare ended…

Unless…

Their final day. At the beach.

0522.

Nothing.

He ran his hands through his hair and sat down on the steps. May 22nd was a bad choice. Seokjin hadn’t done anything significant that day except finish plans he’d already made. And, you know, almost drown, which he was pretty sure Seokjin hadn’t been expecting.

He ran his thumb over the scar on his palm. The doctors said it might fade, eventually, but until then he would bear the mark that had covered his hands with blood.

His own blood, this time.

Not his father’s.

Not Seokjin’s.

It clicked.

He jumped up and went back to the door.

That day must have been the one Seokjin had to be so careful of. Taehyung had been moments away from killing his father when Hoseok had shouted his name.

0521.

The lock beeped happily, and Taehyung turned the handle and stepped inside.

The shades were drawn and the lights were out. A familiar smell hit him, and his vision went black for a second.

Alchohol.

Too much alcohol.

His father.

Things blurred back into reality, or something like it.

His father was there.

His father was passed out on the couch.

How had his father come here? Was he in league with Seokjin? Were they working together to ruin Taehyung’s life? To kill him? To kill Seoyeon?

He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t. He’d failed to kill him once, but this time, this time…

The rage built inside him again. The police couldn’t protect him from the man who’d tortured him all his life. He had to do this himself. He had to, had to, had to.

He grabbed an empty bottle from the table without thinking about it.

“Yes. Do it,” said the Voice inside his head.

His father deserved to die.

He walked up to the couch. The figure on it didn’t move.

The smell of drunkenness waived over him once more. He raised his arm.

He faltered.

This was not his father.

Clarity rushed back.

Seokjin’s eyelids fluttered, and he moaned. 

“Kill him,” said the Voice. “He’s the reason for all of this, you know it, just…”

This was his fate. To kill Seokjin. Stuck-up rich boy, meddling in affairs that weren’t his own, always knowing things that shouldn’t be known…

_“Seokjin! Please! Wake up!”_

_But his eyes were going distant. His breath stuttering around the blood. So much blood, sliding through Taehyung’s fingers as he tried to stop it._

_“Seokjin, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”_

Taehyung gasped and stepped back. He slammed the bottle down on the counter.

He pressed his fists against his eyes and took in a deep breath of air. No panicking. He was okay. He was himself again. This wasn’t his father’s apartment. This wasn’t his father.

Seokjin would never hurt him.

He would never hurt Seokjin.

When he could breathe again, he looked around.

Seokjin was dealing with Jungkook’s injury in his own way, and that way appeared to be alcohol. It wasn’t what Taehyung would have expected from him. Yoongi, yes, he often drowned his troubles in soju, but he couldn’t remember Seokjin getting drunk all the time he’d known him.

True, most of that time had been in high school, and Seokjin followed the rules more than any of them. Maybe he’d become an alcoholic in America and they just hadn’t realized yet.

He examined the bottles cluttering almost every surface. This wasn’t just soju. There were some bottles of expensive looking scotch, a few very fancy wines, and one half-full bottle of vodka. Oh, and a couple bottles of champagne. One had a note attached to it:

_For Kim Minjun, celebrating our sale._

He must have taken these from his father’s wine cellar. Taehyung had never been to Seokjin’s childhood home. He knew Jimin’s parents were also wealthy, but Jimin had never benefited from their money.

Seokjin, on the other hand…

His car. His father’s interest in his education and success. His probably expensive American university tuition. And now, hundreds of dollars worth of alcohol that his father probably would never notice missing.

He walked over to the curtains. He considered throwing them open and letting the afternoon sun pull Seokjin back to the land of the living, but he paused.

There, behind the couch. A pile of papers, and polaroids, and string. All in disarray, a few pieces still pinned up to the wall.

Seokjin would be lucky to get his deposit back on this place, with the constellation of pinholes in the wall and the tape pulling off the texture. This spiderweb of pictures piled on the floor must have all been up there, once.

But what were they, and why?

He sorted through them. Nothing special, just images of the seven boys from their adventures over the past few weeks. A few from when they were all in high school, before Seokjin had sold them out and left. A clipping from Hoseok’s win in the dance competition. A photo of a bar, maybe the one Yoongi worked at. Some scribbled notes, all in English. Tae stared hard at the letters, but they were so sloppy that his minimal skills couldn’t decipher what they said.

It was proof, though.

Proof that Seokjin knew more than he said he did.

A moan sounded from the couch, and Taehyung jumped. He took a breath to compose himself. To remind himself this was Seokjin, not his father. He put a confident slouch in his steps and went to face him.

##

CRASH.

The glass shattered against a tree. The remnants of the blue-label bottle of Johnny Walker leaked into the garbage pile.

Why were they all blaming themselves?

CRASH. A cheap soju bottle went next.

It wasn’t their fault. Not Yoongi’s, not Seokjin’s, not his. There were two possible reasons Jungkook got hurt. Either it was an accident, or, just maybe, Jungkook had something Wrong inside of him, too. Something that made this happen.

Not their fault, either way.

CRASH.

Still, when Seokjin opened his eyes, all he’d say was “It’s my fault. It’s my fault, Tae. I did this.”

No amount of logical reasoning from Taehyung would convince him otherwise, at least not as drunk as he still was.

Seokjin had passed out again a few minutes later.

Taehyung had gathered all the alchohol into a laundry hamper and dragged it out of the apartment. A few blocks away, there was an undeveloped patch of land where poor people had started dumping garbage. If he was going to help Seokjin—and he was going to try—there would be no alcohol in that apartment when he woke up.

“May I give that a shot?” said a voice behind him, and he jumped.

“Sorry!” the voice continued as he whipped around, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Standing in front of him was a slightly familiar blonde girl. He searched his memories… yes, there she was, the day he’d had the nightmare. He’d crashed into her, running down Seokjin’s apartment stairs.

“Is this legal?” she asked.

Just his luck. This twelve-year-old snitch was going to rat him out.

“Does it look legal?” he said.

She shook her head. “Can I try?”

He shrugged. “Be my guest.”

She grabbed a bottle out of the hamper. She drew her arm back behind her and flung the bottle with as much strength as she had. It shattered against an old refrigerator.

“Ha,” she said, half a smile on her face. “That felt good.”

He pulled out two more bottles, and handed one to her.

It was less than a minute before they’d destroyed them all.

He gathered up the limp hamper and turned to leave. After a few steps, he looked over his shoulder. The girl was kneeling on the ground, staring out over the garbage dump. The setting sun was turning her yellow hair a sort of gold.

If the cops came…

“We should get out of here,” he called.

She shook her head.

He should just keep walking. This kid was none of his business. Why should he care if the cops picked her up for what was technically littering?

Instead, he walked back and sat down next to her. A brief glance at her face showed tears hovering on the edge of her lower lashes.

Great. Exactly what he wanted to do right now. Deal with another emotional crisis. This girl wasn’t even his friend.

“What’s up?” he asked. “If you stay here too long, the cops might find you.”

“I’m a liar,” she said.

“Everyone lies,” Tae said, “Don’t beat yourself up.”

She kept staring. The light of the sunset filtered through the trees and glinted off the edge of an old car door.

“Well, you can tell me,” Taehyung said, “If it would help. I don’t know you at all, so I can’t spill your secrets.”

She laughed a little. “You’re right. You’re a stranger. You’re friends with the guy who lives above me, aren’t you? I saw you walking up a couple hours ago.”

He nodded.

“I have friends, too,” she said.

“Well, duh,” Taehyung said.

“It’s not that easy,” she said.

“I mean, maybe not for me,” Taehyung said, “But you look like you’d have lots of friends.”

“Five,” she said.

“Five?”

“Exactly. Best friends. We’ve only known each other a couple months, but I can’t imagine living without them.”

Once, it had been like that for Taehyung. Back when he was in middle school, when the seven of them first came together. It was nearly electric, the energy that connected them.

“I’m leaving for the States this weekend,” she said, “Not forever. Just for the summer. To visit my mom’s family. I was really excited when we planned it during the winter, but now, umm. I don’t want to go, but I can’t stay. And I should tell my friends I’m leaving and I can’t.”

“Why not? Seems easy enough,” Taehyung said.

She shook her head. “Every time I start, I feel regret for not saying it sooner, and I know how Kai’s going to look at me. He’s going to hate me for not telling him, like, the week I met him.”

“Well, if he hates you for one mistake he must be a pretty awful friend,” Taehyung said.

“Oh, he’s not. He’s wonderful. Sweetest guy in the whole school.”

He glanced at her again. There was a sad resolve in her brown eyes.

“Well,” Taehyung said, “You’ve already decided you aren’t telling him.”

She nodded.

“It’s the twenty-first century,” he said, “You can text and video chat and stuff.”

She nodded.

“Still, you probably won’t,” he said.

“No, I will.”

“You think this guilt is going to go away once you get to America? Nah, it’s going to eat you up inside. You’re going to take this noble stance, believing you’ve ruined his life and he doesn’t want to talk to you, and the whole friendship will fall apart.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Thought about that?” Taehyung asked.

“Yes, actually. That’s why I’m so sad. I know that’s how it’s going to be. I’ve waited too long.”

“Leave him a letter, then,” Taehyung said.

“What?”

“Handwritten. Explain everything. That way, he can read it when you’re gone, and once he’s gotten over the hurt a little, he’ll probably text you. If he’s any sort of friend he’ll probably understand why you didn’t want to say goodbye.”

She nodded.

“Of course,” Taehyung continued, “Telling him in person would be better.”

“I can’t,” she said, “I think it would hurt too much.”

Taehyung nodded. “Makes sense.”

A the noise of a car door slamming made them both jump.

“Shh!” Taehyung said. She clapped one hand over her mouth, and he grabbed the other, dragging her down into the garbage pit. He glanced at her sneakers, to make sure they’d protect her from the glass. He’d feel awful if she got hurt because of him.

Heavy footsteps came towards the edge of the pit as he dragged her behind an old couch. They both crouched, hardly daring to breathe.

“Seriously,” said a man’s voice, “I can’t believe the governor won’t give us the money to deal with this.”

“The lowest of the low, keep throwing their garbage here,” said a second, more cocky voice. “Like, how low do you have to be to dump your trash in a pit?”

“Money isn’t easy for some people,” said the first voice. “And when we don’t have the resources to patrol properly, things like this happen.”

“Wish we could just go into those camps they live in and clear them out.”

“Where you gonna put them?”

“Aren’t there homeless shelters and stuff? Places for addicts with no money and no future?”

“Not enough, and they aren’t all that well staffed.”

“Maybe the summer will be hot,” said the cocky one, “Or the winter cold. Let nature take care of some of them.”

“That’s disgusting,” said the deeper-voiced one. “They’re people.”

“Hardly better than rats. Living in abandoned storage containers and under bridges. Wouldn’t you rather be dead?”

“I’d have to get to that point before I could answer that.”

Their voices faded. Taehyung was shaking, blackness and stars filling his vision. What right did they have to say that? Namjoon lived in a container he didn’t own, and it wasn’t his fault at all. He couldn’t help that his father was sick, and the hospital drained his family’s savings. He couldn’t help that they couldn’t support him and he had to drop out of school at seventeen to work. That even now, he sent almost all of his money to his family, hoping that maybe, someday, his father would be well again.

Someone was holding his hand. Their thumb making circles on the inside of his wrist. His first urge was to pull away, but he denied it, instead focusing on the gentle touch.

His vision returned. The girl was in front of him, all tears gone from her eyes. She was staring at him through her round glasses rather intensely.

“What are you doing?” he asked, hoarsely.

“My mother used to do this to me, when I was stressed out,” she said. “It helps. To feel someone else touching you.”

It had never helped Taehyung before, and he wasn’t sure why it was helping now. There was something about those brown eyes staring into his soul, as if they believed he still had one.

(Yes. He’d sold his soul, hadn’t he? That’s what he’d done. But what was the price? Why had he done it?)

She saw the monster inside him, and she was not afraid.

“Thanks,” he said, “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“That was really creepy, what that guy said. I mean, I don’t like it that people have to live like that, but they’re still people. Not… not…”

“Rats that need to be exterminated,” Taehyung finished.

“Yeah. But I think I heard them drive away. Thanks for staying with me. They would have caught me for sure.”

“No problem, kid. How old are you, by the way?”

“Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen before I get back. And you?”

“I’ll be eighteen in September.”

“Cool. Like, a real grown-up. It seems like forever before I’ll be grown up. Yeonjun—he’s one of my friends—says he doesn’t think I’ll ever be a grown up, even when I’m sixty-five.”

Taehyung smiled. “It’s getting dark. You should get home.”

“And you should go check on your friend,” she said. “He’s not doing so good, is he?”

“All these bottles came from his place,” Taehyung said, “I think that’s all that needs to be said.”

“You’ll take care of him,” she said, nodding resolutely. “I can tell. You’re someone who takes care of people.”

Taehyung laughed at that, but he didn’t comment.

They walked back to the apartment building in silence. She smiled at him as she disappeared inside her door.

Seokjin refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening, but he ate the dinner Taehyung made and didn’t resist as Taehyung started cleaning up the place. Near midnight, Tae figured he should call Namjoon and let him know he’d be staying here for a while.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

Dead battery.

His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized he’d forgotten about Jimin.

##

_Tae, where are you?_

Jimin sent one more desperate text to Taehyung.

The nurse had let him know that Dr. Lee had arrived and would be ready in a few minutes.

He’d called and texted Taehyung a hundred times over the last hour. Taehyung said he had an after-school meeting and then would come to the hospital. And Jimin had told him 6:00 was when they would get to go see the newly awakened Jungkook, the one thing he couldn’t do all alone.

Taehyung had promised, but he wasn’t here.

Jimin’s hands shook. He felt tears pressing at the back of his eyes. He’d been able to go in with Tae. To see Jungkook’s pale face on the hospital bed. The wires and IV’s hooked up to his body. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook would wake up and time would start again, but it was okay because Tae was with him.

He’d tried Namjoon, but, as Jimin already knew, he was working. Yoongi’s number said it had been disconnected. Seokjin’s went straight to voicemail, and he couldn’t call Hoseok because that was the phone he was using, and Hoseok couldn’t take off work, anyways.

It was just him.

Dr. Lee entered the room. “Are you ready?” he said, his voice serious.

“Taehyung was supposed to be here,” Jimin said.

Dr. Lee nodded. “I would wait for him, but I am on shift in the ER in an hour. We need to go now. He needs to hear, to understand and agree with what we’ve planned before we can move forward.”

Jimin stared at his shoes.

“I won’t lie and say this will be easy,” Dr. Lee said, “Delivering news like this is one of the hardest things.”

It would also be awful to hear it, especially if you were hurt and scared and all alone.

Jimin stood up. Who was he, to think he was alone? Jungkook was just on the other side of this. They’d be together. And together, they could do anything, right? 

“I can do it,” he said.

##

Taehyung ran into the family room.

It was empty.

Had Jimin gone home to shower, maybe?

“Taehyung, sweetie,” said one of the nurses, the American one who checked in on them almost every day. Her hair was the same color blonde as the girl Taehyung had seen earlier in the evening.

“Did Jimin go home?” Taehyung asked before she could finish.

“He’s in with Jungkook now.” Damn. So he had missed it.

“Can I go in there?”

“Yes, but be quiet. I think he’s sleeping.”

Taehyung’s chest got tighter and tighter the closer they came to Jungkook’s room. The nurse opened the door and let him in.

Jungkook lay on the bed just as Taehyung had seen him the other day. This time, he was just sleeping.

There was a cot pushed up next to the bed. Jimin was laying on his side, and his hand was holding Jungkook’s. Taehyung tiptoed closer and saw that Jimin’s eyes were open. He’d been crying.

Taehyung felt he deserved every bit of pain he felt right now. He’d promised. He’d promised Jimin he would be here, and he hadn’t been.

“Tae,” Jimin whispered, “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Tae replied.

Slowly, Jimin sat up on the cot. He nodded for Tae to come over.

Taehyung sat next to him, and Jimin immediately leaned his head onto Taehyung’s shoulder and sighed. He was still holding Jungkook’s hand. Tae looked Jungkook over. If anything, he looked even thinner and more sick than he had when he was unconscious.

“Did they tell him?” Tae whispered.

He felt Jimin nod.

“I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I promised, and I…”

“Shhh,” Jimin said. “You did promise. And it really sucked, not having you here.”

That hurt, but Jimin was still leaning against him, so he must not hate him entirely.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Taehyung asked.

“He was freaked out,” Jimin said, “Just kinda staring as Dr. Lee told him. And when Dr. Lee told him the details of the plan, and how his parents didn’t care, I started crying, and Dr. Lee hadn’t even gotten to the part about how hard the recovery would be yet. And Jungkook didn’t even cry. Just kept staring off into space.” 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Jungkook cry,” Taehyung said.

“Me, neither. But I thought he would. Anyways. I was scared he wasn’t going to decide to go for the surgery, but I wouldn’t have blamed him a bit. Dr. Lee didn’t fully explain it to us before. The odds are so slim, and the recovery is going to hurt like mad. But he said he’d do it. He said he’d do it.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of their breathing. Staring at Jungkook’s face in the pale light. He looked so freaking young right now, years younger than Tae felt, even though they were just a few months apart.

“Why didn’t you come?” Jimin asked.

The moment of truth. “I found Seokjin,” he said.

“What? How?”

“It was just a hunch,” he lied, “But I followed it and I found him. He’s real messed up. Thinks this was his fault, like Yoongi. I’m going to stay with him a while and try to convince him otherwise.”

“Good,” Jimin said. “Is it okay that you left him alone?”

Taehyung didn’t think that Seokjin would try to go get more booze, or run away and do something else reckless, but he wasn’t sure, and Jimin felt it.

“You can go,” he said, “If you need to.”

“Are you going to sleep here?” Taehyung asked.

“I promised him I’d be here when he woke up,” Jimin said.

“You’re a good kid,” Taehyung said.

“I’m older than you, punk,” Jimin teased.

“Yeah, whatever.” Taehyung stood up, and Jimin laid down on the cot again.

The nurse had left some blankets in the chairs against the wall, and Taehyung grabbed one and put it over Jimin.

“Thanks, Tae,” Jimin said.

“Doesn’t your arm hurt, holding it out like that?” Tae asked.

“I lost all feeling two hours ago,” Jimin said, “But I’m not letting go till he does, you know?”

Jimin hugged the blanket around himself with his other arm and closed his eyes. “I’m so glad he’s awake,” he said, “I’m so glad the clock’s ticking again. It hurts, but it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. Don’t you think so?”

Taehyung ruffled Jimin’s hair, wondering what sort of turn of fate had allowed him to be friends with this boy. “Yeah, we’ll be okay,” he said, and tried to put as much honesty into it as he could. “I’ll call you after school. And I’m going to plug my phone in as soon as I’m back at Seokjin’s, and I really will keep it charged. Call me if you need me. I’ll skip school if I have to. Namjoon can’t make me go, if you need me here.”

“Okay, Taehyung,” Jimin said, his voice tired.

Taehyung stayed, leaning against the doorframe, until Jimin was asleep. He took one last look at Jungkook: his hand gripping Jimin’s, his legs useless under the hospital sheets, a strange gleam of hope in the line between his brows.

The kid was a fighter. Hell, he’d pulled Yoongi out of a burning building. And with Jimin by his side, Jungkook couldn’t help but get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Behind the Scenes:_ I really liked writing this chapter. I don't know exactly why, but Tae's point of view is so much fun to write. And I *love* writing his interactions with Mia. I never planned on Mia being Seokjin's downstairs neighbor, but when this scene happened... it just felt so right. Also: just because my characters do things DOES NOT mean I condone them in real life. I don't think this has to be said, but I figured I would. Dispose of garbage properly. Don't break bottles against trees.
> 
> Thanks for reading! What did you think? Is Taehyung going to get any information out of Seokjin concerning their curse?
> 
> The next chapter opens with Jungkook's POV, hooray! I'll be working long hours over next weekend, so _Just One Day: Chapter 4_ will release a day early on Thursday, August 27th.


	16. Just One Day: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of plans, and I'm going up to work at camp a couple days early. So the chapter gets posted even earlier. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I did very little medical research for anything in this chapter. Or, in other words, Story>Medical Accuracy for the entirety of Part 3.

June 12

Jungkook was glad to be alive.

He really was.

He’d thought he was dying, after the truck hit him. As the moon went dark and the Voice inside his head relished in his pain.   
He had no memories from the week he was unconscious. Total blackness. Then waking. No one telling him what was wrong with him for over an hour. The nightmare of realizing he couldn’t move his legs. Couldn’t even feel them. 

When Dr. Lee finally came… well, thank goodness for Jimin. He wasn’t sure he could have made any sort of decision without him being there.

The surgery itself hadn’t seemed that bad, but he knew it would get worse before it got better. Dr. Yang, his surgeon, had said that if he was going to walk again he had to really want it. To be willing to go out and grab it, whatever the cost. The surgery alone wasn’t enough to heal him.

His arms were getting stronger already. He’d barely been able to wheel himself around the room three days ago, but now he’d slipped away from the nurse assigned to watch him and was rolling down the halls like he owned the place.

At least, that’s how he felt in this hall. This particular hall was empty, and he could go up and down without worrying that he’d upset anyone. His muscles burned, and he felt a dull ache beginning in his lower back. The pain meds were probably wearing off, and, thank goodness, he felt something.

The nothingness of those first few days had been the scariest. The pain in his head and his ribs he could deal with, but the idea that his legs wouldn’t do what he asked of them was like the stuff of nightmares. In fact, he’d had several, where monsters with mismatched eyes had crawled in through the vents and he couldn’t run away because his legs didn’t work. The monsters had covered him, biting and tearing at him, and he screamed and screamed for help until Jimin pulled him out of the darkness and back to reality.

He took another turn and forced his arms to wheel him towards the far end again. He wasn’t sure which ward he was in, only that it was quiet. Only that he had to keep moving, keep running, not think about it or he’d…

He slid to a stop.

Someone was in front of him.

He looked up into the eyes of a girl.

“Hello,” she said, and held out her hand.

She was dragging one of those rolling IV things along with her, and she looked about his age. Her eyes were smiling, even if her mouth wasn’t.

“Hello,” Jungkook said, bowing as well as he could given the circumstances, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, I didn’t know there was anyone here.”

“I’m Mikyeong,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Umm,” Jungkook said.

She stretched her hand a little closer to him, and he took it. “Jeon Jungkook,” he said. Her grip was stronger than he expected.

“Are you running from your nurse?” she said.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said.

“You look tired. Want to hide in my room a little bit before she finds you?”

Jungkook nodded. The girl opened the door behind her, and he followed her inside.

##

Her hospital room was so different than his that it took him a minute to process. Soft pink curtains hung over the windows, and some potted plants were piled on the table next to the bed. She had a stack of books and a little couch, and the TV on the wall had ribbons hanging down the side of it.

“Welcome, Jeon Jungkook,” she said, “Shall we take a seat?” And she stood there like she was waiting for him to say she could.

“I’m already sitting,” he said.

“Very true. But it doesn’t look as if you have much choice, and I wasn’t sure if this was a standing or sitting sort of meeting.” She sat down on the little white couch. “What brought you here?”

“My doctor told me I needed to be a fighter, so I decided running away from my nurse might be a good way to practice that.”

She laughed. “Sweet,” she said, “I slip out of my surveillance all the time. It’s so hilarious when they finally find me. But that isn’t what I was asking. What brought you here? To the hospital?”

She laid her head back on the cushion and waited for his reply.

Jungkook looked down at himself. His lower back was shooting bolts of pain all the way up his spine, but feeling was a good thing.

“I got hit by a truck,” he said.

“Ouch.”

“You’re telling me,” he said.

“What did it do to you?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she continued. “Lacerations? Soft tissue damage? Whiplash? Fractures?”

She saw the confusion on Jungkook’s face and laughed, but not in a mean way. “Sorry,” she said, “I forget people don’t like to talk about it. But I’ve been here for years, and if you’re stuck in a hospital you might as well learn all you can, right? There’s this one doctor from Cardiology giving me lessons on the cardiovascular system, and Dr. Lee from Emergency is teaching me all about blunt trauma injuries, and Dr. Sun from the maternity ward even walked me through how to deliver a baby! How cool is that?”

Jungkook was pretty sure his eyes were about to pop out of his head. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he’d come in here, but this was not it.

“Am I too much?” she said, “Sorry. It’s been six days since anyone’s come to see me except my mom. And, like, she’s my mom. Gotta love her, but anything to do with human anatomy makes her want to throw up. How about I start with my story?”

Jungkook nodded. The girl took a moment to collect her breath, and she began.

“It started when I was a child of twelve,” she said, like she was telling a fairy story, “And I passed out during PE class. It seemed a funny thing to do, and my mother was concerned, but not that concerned. Only, a week later, it happened again while I was at my friend’s house. I didn’t tell my mom. And then three days after that, while we were having dinner, the worst thing happened. Incredibly rare for a twelve-year-old to have a heart attack, but I’m just that special.”

Special, or insane. Jungkook wasn’t quite sure.

“They got my heart started again. Well, obviously, since I’m here talking to you. And I haven’t really left. They aren’t quite sure what’s wrong with me. I’ve had two surgeries to no avail, and they don’t think I’d survive a third try, so here I am. Kinda sucks that I can’t fly, but they sure as heck can’t stop me singing. You know how much cool stuff you can learn in a hospital? Oh, gosh. I think I need to take a break. Being on the verge of death is exhausting sometimes.”

Her face was flushed, and she sat back and closed her eyes.

“How long have you been here?” Jungkook asked.

“I just turned seventeen,” she said. “You can do the math.”

“I’m seventeen, too.”

“Sweet. Now, you gonna tell me what that truck did to you?”

If she could talk about her heart failure so lightly, what was stopping him? “Concussion, definitely. The overall trauma contributed to me being out for a full week. My ribs are cracked and still hurt like hell, and my lungs were full of blood, but I’m not sure how they fixed that,” he said.

“Probably chest tube into the pleural space,” she said, “Are you still on oxygen?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Go on.”

“Compact fracture in my lower back,” he said, “Paralyzed me.” A shudder went through him saying that. “But they did this surgery, and I can feel some things again. By the end of the month, I should be able to stand again, and walking sometime after that.”

“When was the surgery?”

“Six days ago.”

She whistled. “Nothing gets you down, does it?”

“Nothing,” he said. She opened her eyes at that, like she knew he was lying, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, Jeon Jungkook,” she said, “Sounds like you’re going to be here for a while.”

He nodded.

“If you’re ever bored, and even if you’re not, maybe you’d like to swing by my room again? We can talk the finer details of spinal fractures, or, like… what are you interested in?”

“Umm?”

“I’ve been very rude. I just assume everyone is interested in injuries and ailments, and forget that there’s a world outside this place. What do you like to do? What can you teach me?”

“I like music,” Jungkook said without thinking.

“Music? Sweet. What’s your favorite band? I love EXO. Or are you more into classical stuff, or, like, playing music? What do you play?”

Jungkook smiled. “Well, I kind of play piano…”

##

“She’s, like, really cool,” Jungkook said, “She knows all this stuff about medical procedures. She’s obsessed with it. But she was down to talk about music, too. Really, it just seemed she liked to talk, and she could talk about anything.”

Jimin smiled. The nurse had just given Jungkook his evening round of painkillers, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before Jungkook would fall asleep.

“You’ll definitely have to meet her sometime. Her name’s Mikyeong. I didn’t get her last name. But she’s… she’s… gosh, I’m tired.”

“You look tired,” Jimin said, “Sounds like a crazy day.”

“Is Hoseok coming in?”

“He’ll be here when you wake up in the morning. Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving?”

“Yeah, totally,” Jungkook said, “I’m on top of the flipping world. Umm.” He looked Jimin in the eyes. “You heard anything from Yoongi?”

Jimin shook his head.

“You think he’ll ever come by? Or did he give up on me?” His words were blending together, and Jimin could tell the drug was doing its work.

“He didn’t give up on you,” Jimin said, “I think he gave up on himself, for a little bit. But he’ll be okay.”

Jungkook sighed. “I miss him. It was so good, before. When we were okay. At the beach. I was so happy. That’s why I thought I was going to die. Because that was the promise. And it hurt so much. Gosh, Jimin. The blood everywhere and that Voice in my head…”

Just as always, the loopiness hit Jungkook before sleep took him. Right before he fell asleep, he always muttered something about monsters and dying, like the nightmares he’d had before surgery.

The meds they had him on now didn’t allow for nightmares. They sent him into a deep sleep so that his cells could focus all their attention on repairing his neural pathways, or something like that. Jimin really didn’t understand anything that went into this surgery or the recovery process. Maybe this girl Jungkook had met would be able to explain it to him.

He laid his hand over Jungkook’s for a moment. “See you in the morning, kid,” he whispered, even though he doubted a fire alarm would wake Jungkook at this point.

He took the metro to the dance studio. Neither Jae nor Hoseok were there yet. He leaned against the door and stared out at the cars rushing by and thought about Jungkook.

Jae arrived first. She had a box under one arm and her duffel swung over the other. She looked up, saw Jimin, and and jumped.

“Sorry,” Jimin said.

“It’s just you,” she said, and opened the door. “Scared me, Jiminie. I forgot you were coming today.”

“I don’t have to be, if you and Hoseok are working on something, I can go”—

“No,” Jae said, “That isn’t what I meant. I’m glad to see you. Glad you took time to come out here. How’s Jungkook?”

He updated her as they stepped into the studio. Jae walked into the kitchen area and slid the mysterious box into the fridge.

“At midnight, you distract Hoseok while I come back here, okay?”

“Why?” Jimin asked, thinking it must have something to do with that box.

“I’m older than you and you should obey me,” Jae said. She looked seriously at Jimin, but he could see the teasing in her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

The door opened, and they heard Hoseok lock the door behind him.

“Let’s go,” Jae said.

##

Jimin didn’t even have to make anything up. Jae had the whole plan ready from the start. “Hoseok, you keep failing,” she said, straight-faced. “I can’t stand to watch anymore.”

“I’m trying,” he said, “But I can’t see what you think I’m getting wrong.”

“You need to lighten up. Here, Jimin, you film him practicing while I go clear my head.” She tossed her iPhone to Jimin and stormed out of the room.

Hoseok sighed. “I don’t get it. I think I’m doing it right.”

“Just try to relax,” Jimin said, “Let the music guide you.”

“Since when did you become the great dance master?”

“Hey, I’m just repeating what Jae said. Come on. Dance.” He smiled at Hoseok, and Hoseok rolled his eyes. Jimin didn’t know if Jae meant for him to really film, but he did.

Hoseok danced. The music ran through his veins, and he let it carry his every movement. After a few minutes, Jimin became aware of Jae’s presence behind him. He took a quick glance at her.

She was smiling, and it nearly took his breath away. She was so pretty, standing there, watching Hoseok.

The music came towards its end and she stepped into the room like she hadn’t been watching. “Yo, Hoseok, happy birthday,” she said.

He turned around and blinked, letting the dance fade away. His mouth dropped open as he saw what she was holding, and shifted into a huge smile.

“Your birthday is still June 13th, right?”

“Birthdays usually don’t change,” he said.

Jimin had had no idea when Hoseok’s birthday was. He’d never talked about it.

“Make your wish or whatever,” she said, shrugging.

He closed his eyes and blew out the candle.

Jimin realized he was filming Jae’s face. He quickly stopped and deleted the footage.

They went into the kitchen and sat around the table.

“So, my dancing was okay?” Hoseok asked, taking a bite.

“It was not okay,” she said, “It was really good. I’m trying to find another competition to enter, but haven’t had any luck.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” Hoseok said, but both Jimin and Jae knew he wasn’t quite telling the truth. She stared at him, concern in her dark eyes, and Hoseok stared back at her, trying to hide the panic that had been building ever since the accident. Jimin didn’t know what Jungkook’s surgery cost, but he knew Hoseok was the one paying. Jungkook’s family hadn’t been to see their son since he’d woken.

A tension built in the room. He wasn’t quite sure what the feeling was between Jae and Hoseok, but it was strong and definitely not negative. He kinda felt he should either interrupt or leave the room.

“I was thinking about getting a job,” he blurted. Their focus broke and they turned to him.

“What, really?” Hoseok said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’re going to need more money,” Jimin said, shrugging. He hadn’t meant to bring this up yet, but he hadn’t known what else to say. “I should be able to do something.”

“You’re doing plenty with Jungkook,” Hoseok said, “I don’t want you”—

“Shut up,” Jae said, “He’s a grown man, you don’t have to mother him.” Hoseok shut up, and heat rose in Jimin’s face at her calling him a grown man. “What are you thinking, Jimin? Let’s hear it.”

Jae seemed legitimately curious, so Jimin looked at her instead of Hoseok. “Umm, well, Jungkook doesn’t need me all the time. He’s doing a lot better, and he’s already starting to make friends. So I figured I could maybe find a part time job, two or three days a week. Bring in a little money, at least. Get out and see the world again.” He shrugged.

Jae glared at Hoseok, and some of that weird energy between them came back into the room. Jimin had a bite of cake, and slouched back in his chair. Hoseok and Jae didn’t say a word. They simply stared at each other.

Hoseok broke first. “You’re right,” he said, and turned to Jimin. “I’ll ask around. If you think you can handle it, I’ll believe you. But don’t feel like you have to.”

“I want to,” Jimin said. He could see the doubt in Hoseok’s eyes, but that made it all the more important that he’d agreed to let Jimin make his own choices.

##

It was strange, being in the apartment for more than fifteen minutes. As he dried his hair, he realized he wasn’t rushing out to the hospital again. This was his home, and once this was all over he and Jungkook and Hoseok would be here and they wouldn’t ever have to leave.

He had a home.

At first, everything seemed just as he’d left it. But the longer he looked around the living room, he saw things that were different. Things he hadn’t expected. The couch had been straightened against the wall. The table was clean, and there wasn’t any dust on the floor. He walked into the bedroom. The sheets on his bed seemed clean, and the corners were folded, and there wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen.

He opened the drawers. All his clothes that weren’t in his backpack were clean and folded. 

Jimin backed out of the room and turned into the kitchen.

“Hoseok,” he said. “I…” 

The kitchen shocked him into silence. It was just as clean as everywhere else, and the pile of unpacked boxes that had been up against the wall the last time Jimin had been in here had vanished.

“Food’s ready,” Hoseok said, pulling some frozen dumplings out of the microwave. “That cake was great, but definitely not filling, right? That jazz routine we did was killer.”

Jimin followed him out to the table and sat down.

“These are really good, want some?” Hoseok said around a mouthful of food.

“Hoseok, has anyone else been here while I’ve been gone?” Jimin asked. Now that he was sitting on the floor, it seemed even cleaner than it had been when they moved in, which should be impossible. Hoseok’s last apartment had been exactly what you’d expect a single guy’s apartment to look like in terms of cleanliness. Jimin had considered himself to be the best thing that had ever happened to that place. But he had barely been here in over two weeks, and instead of falling apart, things were sparkling.

“So, kinda long story,” Hoseok said.

“I have time,” Jimin said. It was late, but there was no way he was sleeping until he knew.

“I kinda fell apart, a little bit,” Hoseok said, “With Jungkook and all. And Jae noticed, but she didn’t really mind, which was super cool. I mean, I’m sure she minded a little. But she came home with me”—

“She came home with you?” Jimin said. “And you’re just telling me now?”

Hoseok’s face went red. “It wasn’t anything else,” he said, “She just brought me home, because, like, I was really a mess, and she stayed the night and”—

“She _stayed the night_?”

“God, Jimin, she slept on the couch,” Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. “And I slept for like fourteen hours and she cleaned up the place.”

“And?” Jimin prompted.

“During our next practice, she said she thought it was disgraceful, letting my apartment get that dirty. And I said that I’d been under a lot of stress, of course things had gotten out of hand in the household chores department. And then she said that she was pretty sure I was a terribly messy person even when things were going well.”

“And?”

Hoseok shrugged. “I said if she was so concerned about it, she should come have lunch with me and show me what I was doing wrong.”

“Practically a date,” Jimin said.

“It was not a date,” Hoseok said.

“Then what was it?”

“A very straightforward lesson on cleaning products and the best ways to use them, followed by kimchi fried rice and a discussion on better cleaning habits.”

Jimin tried to hide a smile. “You’re right, that’s a pretty lame date.”

“Exactly!”

“So, you’re a master housekeeper now?”

“Not really,” he said, “She keeps dropping by whenever I’m off at lunch time to berate me and redo everything I’ve tried.”

“So you’ve gone straight from dating to old married couple.”

Hoseok glared at him. Jimin imagined the scene: Jae, in her direct tone, showing Hoseok how to mop the floors and scrub the shower tiles. He held his hand over his mouth, but once he started laughing he couldn’t stop.

“This is no laughing matter,” Hoseok said, “I might never be able to beat her in dance, but I will learn how to make those perfect corners on the bedsheets if it kills me. Seriously, how hard can it be? Jimin. Come on.”

Jimin was on his back, gasping, as he tried to stop laughing, but it was too much. Finally, he caught his breath and sat back up. Hoseok was staring at him, trying to be straight-faced, but Jimin could see the amusement in his eyes.

“Is my pain really that funny?” Hoseok asked.

“Definitely. And if you don’t tell Jungkook this exact story tomorrow, I will. This is pure gold.”

“Gosh darned ballet girl…” Hoseok grumbled, shoving the last dumpling in his mouth and taking the plate into the kitchen. Jimin followed him and leaned against the doorframe as Hoseok put soap on the sponge and washed the plate. Jimin hadn’t know that they had real plates.

If it wasn’t obvious earlier, it was now. Hoseok didn’t see it, but he was too close to the situation.

“She’s definitely into you,” Jimin said, ignoring the twinge in his heart.

“Who?” Hoseok asked.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Hoseok stuck the plate in a drying rack—which Jimin was also sure they hadn’t owned previously—and leaned back against the counter. “No,” he said.

“Hey,” Jimin said, “I’ve hung out with you guys a lot. And just tonight, well. She got you a birthday cake.”

He shrugged. “So what?”

“I didn’t even know it was your birthday, and I’m your best friend,” Jimin said.

“Jae and I knew each other when we were kids. Birthdays were a lot more important then.”

“She remembered, and despite how much you think she’s judging you all the time, she got you a cake.”

Hoseok opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like her,” Jimin said.

“I don’t.”

“How could you not? I mean, this whole cleaning your house thing is definitely an excuse to hang around together.”

“She’s probably just making sure I’m not going to have another breakdown,” Hoseok said.

“Which shows how much she secretly cares about you,” Jimin said.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You just say that cause you know I’m right. Also, she’s really hot.”

Jimin hadn’t meant to say this, and he felt heat creeping into his face, but Hoseok didn’t look at him. He just gazed blankly at the refrigerator and nodded. “God, she’s so hot,” he said. “And she’s sweet, in her own weird way. And she dances like nobody’s business and she notices everything and I…” Hoseok pressed the dish towel over his face and slid to the floor.

“You really like her,” Jimin said.

Hoseok nodded.

“Then ask her out already.”

Hoseok sighed. “Maybe sometime. Not now.”

“Some other guy might snatch her up.”

“If she really likes me, she’d turn him down. And she probably doesn’t like me. I mean, she likes me, but not like that. She likes me like a dance partner. A friend.”

“Sounds like the perfect beginning to a relationship.”

“What do you know about relationships? You were in a hospital for two years.” 

“Do you know how many dramas I watched?”

Hoseok looked up at him. “Real life is nothing like television.”

“I’m just saying,” Jimin said, “You ever need me out of the house, just say the word.”

“Why would I ever…”

“If one of your housecleaning dates turns more romantic…”

“Jimin, come on.”

“I mean, she already spent the night…”

Hoseok flung the dishtowel at him, and Jimin dodged from the kitchen and into the bedroom. He grabbed his pillow and held his breath.

Hoseok rounded the corner and SMACK Jimin whacked the pillow in his face.

“You little punk…” Hoseok said. Jimin dodged around him as he reached for his own pillow.

Ten minutes later, the couch cushions had been knocked askew and a handful of escaped feathers littered the otherwise spotless floor. Both of them could hardly breathe from laughing. Hoseok had taken both pillows and backed Jimin into a corner.

“Looks like I win,” Hoseok said, smiling.

“For the time being,” Jimin gasped. “But you have to admit, I made a good fight of it.”

Hoseok flopped Jimin’s pillow onto his head. “We should have gone to bed hours ago.”

“Probably,” Jimin said, pulling his pillow against his chest, “But, like. This was better.” 

Hoseok nodded.

Jimin crawled into bed and closed his eyes.

Yes. This was better. Hoseok was definitely in love with Jae, and there was nothing Jimin could do about it. His own feelings towards her were nothing but a crush. There was no way she saw him as any more than a little brother. And since Hoseok felt this strongly about her, Jimin didn’t want it any differently.

At least, that’s what he’d have to keep telling himself.

##

Jungkook couldn’t help smiling as he looked at the cards in his hand. He glanced at the cheat sheet on his phone to make sure, and, yes, he had the highest possible hand in all of poker.

“I’ll start the bet at six,” Jimin said, tossing some candies onto the table.

“Jungkook’s smiling,” Hoseok said, “He has to have something good.”

“Not as good as me,” Mikyeong said, “I see your six and raise it to ten.”

Jungkook silently matched her bet, not wanting to seem too suspicious.

“Ahhhh,” Hoseok said, glancing at his cards and then around at everyone’s faces. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t fold already,” Jimin said, “I don’t think Jungkook really knows how to play yet.”

“A straight is when they’re all the same colors, right?” Jungkook said.

As Hoseok and Jimin glanced at each other, he saw Miyeong wink at him. This was how poker was played.

“Okayyy,” Hoseok said, biting his lip, “I’ll match it.”

“Are you going to call?” Jimin asked.

“There’s too many decisions in this game. Umm. No. Keep going.”

Jimin raised again, as did Mikyeong. Jungkook matched.

“I’m out,” Hoseok said, throwing down his full house and walking away from the folding table in Jungkook’s hospital room.

The candies in the center outgrew the size of the piles in front of each player.

“Really?” Jimin said to Mikyeong as she raised to 19. “You’re going to do that?”

“I think you’re bluffing,” she said.

“We’re almost out of candies,” Jungkook said.

“All in, then?” Jimin asked.

“All in,” Jungkook and Mikyeong said in unison.

Hoseok slid back into his seat. “Great reveal time. What do you have?”

Mikyeong set down a very respectable flush of hearts.

“Darn,” Jimin said, dropping a two pair of seven’s and nine’s.

“You were bluffing,” Mikyeong said.

“He’s always bluffing,” Hoseok said, “But Jungkook’s the winner this time.”

They all glanced at Jungkook’s hand, which he’d quietly laid down amongst the banter.

“Royal flush, like who does that?” Jimin said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in real life.”

“I’m cool with it,” Mikyeong said, sliding the giant pile of candy-coated chocolates towards Jungkook.

“That means the next round is just Hoseok and Jungkook,” Jimin said, “Mikyeong and I are out.”

“I don’t think so,” Hoseok said, throwing a handful of his candies into his mouth and shoving the rest towards Jungkook. “You win today, kid.”

Mikyeong glanced up at Hoseok and grinned. “You know I’ve been using these same candies as poker chips for four years?”

“Gross!” Hoseok said, running to a garbage can and spitting them out.

Mikyeong winked at Jungkook again.

There was a brief knock on the door, and it opened. Dr. Lee stepped in. The older man’s eyes widened at the sight: Hoseok was now in the bathroom, washing his mouth out in the sink. Jimin had fallen out of his chair laughing at him. Mikyeong was arranging the candies into a human skeleton, and though Jungkook desperately wanted to watch how quickly she could do it, he was the only one who turned his head and bowed to the doctor.

“I assume you are all having a lovely afternoon?” Dr. Lee said.

“Yes, very nice,” Jungkook said.

“Dr. Lee is the worst at poker,” Mikyeong said, still not addressing him properly.

Hoseok stepped out of the bathroom. “Dr. Lee, sir. I’m sorry. Some of these kids are little punks.” He kicked Jimin. “Stand up, weirdo.”

Jimin coughed and struggled to his feet, bowing his head. “Dr. Lee. Sorry. I’m just… he just shoved all the candy… four years old…”

Hoseok elbowed him in the side, and Jimin managed to stop.

Dr. Lee was smiling. “My shift starts in an hour, and I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Jung, before I start.”

“Oh,” Hoseok said, “Is anything wrong?”

“We’ll discuss that in my office. Come along.” He paused, his eyes landing on Jungkook, and then Mikyeong, and then Jimin. “Mr. Park, you can come as well.”

Hoseok let out a sigh, and Jungkook was sure he was relieved. If Jimin was going, too, the news Dr. Lee had probably wasn’t very bad.

The door clicked as the three exited.

“There!” Mikyeong exclaimed. “All done.”

Jungkook looked down. She’d crafted two human skeletons and some sort of structure out of the little round candies. It was a little hard to know for certain, but it looked like the skeletons were holding hands and standing under a tower.

“It’s supposed to be the Eiffel tower,” she said, “But Hoseok ate like half of them, so it’s a little abstract.”

“It’s cute,” Jungkook said. “Are the candies really four years old?”

She giggled. “I got them out of the snack machine this morning. But let’s just let him keep thinking that. I mean, it’s really not fair, eating a girl’s art supplies just as she’s planning a masterpiece.” She reached down, grabbed a candy from one of the skeleton’s legs, and popped it in her mouth. “Tibia,” she said, “Or maybe Fibula. You can’t really differentiate at this scale. Very tasty. Here, you can eat the femur.”

She took Jungkook’s hand and placed a little blue candy in it.

“That’s kinda disgusting,” Jungkook said.

“I know, right? Whenever mom’s being annoying I pretend I’m eating bones. Makes her change the subject to something more cheery real quick. Come on. Once we’ve finished the legs, we’ll move on to the torso. You can have the spinal column, and I’ll take the ribs, okay?”

Jungkook didn’t really know what to say to this, but that the smile on her pale lips made him smile, too.

He tossed the candy in his mouth. “How many vertebrae are there again?”

“Come on, site of your very own injury and you don’t remember. Thirty-three. You probably don’t remember the regions, either. Seven in the cervical region, and then you move to twelve in the thoracic, and…”

##

Hoseok laughed. “Seriously? It’s going to cost less than expected?”

Dr. Lee nodded. “I thought you’d want to know.”

Hoseok ran his hand through his hair and leaned back. “That’s amazing. Thank you, so much. I mean, it’s still a lot, but cutting off two thousand dollars is really something. And who made this donation?”

“They wished to remain anonymous,” Dr. Lee said.

Hoseok leaned forward. “You can’t tell me anything? And the donation was for just Jungkook?”

“Word gets around,” Dr. Lee said, “Sometimes independent businessmen are hit with certain moments of altruism. That’s all I can tell you.”

“I just wish I could thank them.”

“I don’t think they would want that.”

Hoseok nodded. “Okay, then. Thank you so much for letting me know. I’m sure you’re very busy. Come on, Jimin.” Hoseok stood, but Jimin didn’t follow him. He looked down at his friend.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Jimin asked, “Or else you wouldn’t have had me come in here.”

“There is,” Dr. Lee said. Hoseok slid back into his chair, his chest tightening at the thought that something might be wrong. Was there a problem with the surgery?

“You met Cho Mikyeong,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said. “She seems sweet. I’m glad Jungkook has someone here. I mean, we’re here, but we can’t be all the time, and it’s nice for him to have a friend to distract him.”

“Really good at distracting, she is,” Jimin said, and his voice sounded distant.

“Jungkook does seem quite enamored with her,” Dr. Lee said, “And part of me is glad. As you said, she is sweet, but she’s also not afraid of anything. Lets her thoughts just spill out there in the open. Scares a lot of people away.”

“So, it’s a good thing,” Hoseok said, standing again. “Jungkook’s kind and quiet, she’s cheerful and brave, both of them must be lonely, so it’s the beginning of a great friendship. Now, can we go?”

Dr. Lee did not address his rudeness, and Jimin was not supporting his attempt to get out of here in any way.

“If you two judged it best, I could put measures in place to keep them apart,” Dr. Lee said.

Hoseok did not like where this was going. “You’re the doctor,” he said, grabbing Jimin’s arm, “We listen to you. Come on, Jimin. Let’s”—

“What reason do you have for them not being friends?” Jimin asked, quietly.

“She’s dying,” he said.

Hoseok sank back into the chair. He left his hand on Jimin’s arm.

“I thought so,” Jimin said. “How long does she have?”

“That’s just the thing.” Dr. Lee removed his glasses and polished them with a silky cloth. “We aren’t entirely sure. She’s lived in this hospital for nearly five years. Many of the doctors are very fond of her. But we’re all adults, and we know what happens when you let a dying girl find a place in your heart.”

Hoseok started reading the titles on the bookshelf behind the desk. His skin was crawling and his heart was pounding and breathing wasn’t so easy anymore.

“So, you think it would be easier for Jungkook if he didn’t get close to her?”

Dr. Lee replaced his glasses. “Jungkook has been through a lot, as you well know. This injury is the tip of the iceberg of what he’s suffered. I was here the night they first brought him in. Two months ago, when he stopped Min Yoongi’s suicide attempt. He lied to me, said they were brothers so he could see him. I was angry, very angry, because suicide attempts are no laughing matter. Only no one from either Min Yoongi or Jungkook’s families came to see them. That was upsetting and interesting. Just one other young man came during my shift, your friend Kim Seokjin. See, how it just keeps getting deeper? I’ve noticed neither Mr. Min or Mr. Kim have been by to see him.”

“Yoongi came, once,” Jimin said. “Told me what happened was all his fault and not to try and find him again.”

Dr. Lee nodded. “That is concerning. But here is the problem we have now. Mikyeong could die next week or five years from now. We have no way of knowing. And I don’t know how your young friend would handle it if her passing is sooner rather than later. This is why I called both of you in here today.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Hoseok only had one more shelf of titles to read. 

“Does Jungkook know?” Jimin asked.

“That Mikyeong is dying? Oh, certainly. Girl never shuts up about her mortality and deadly ailments. Probably told him within ten minutes of meeting him.”

Hoseok was about to say they should probably split the two up, if possible, make some excuse, to keep Jungkook from getting hurt. But Jimin spoke first.

“Then I think it’s his choice,” he said, “If he wants to keep seeing her, who are we to stop him?”

Dr. Lee nodded. “Do you agree, Hoseok?” Hoseok did not agree. Not at all. This would not end well, and he didn’t think he could handle seeing Jungkook’s heart broken any more than it already was.

But he’d heard the determination in Jimin’s voice, and he didn’t think he could fight that.

“I guess,” Hoseok said, “Makes sense. I mean, I don’t think we could keep him away from her if he wants to see her. Stubborn kid, in his own quiet way.”

Jimin smiled at him, but Hoseok saw the tears in his eyes. 

They thanked Dr. Lee for his concern and left the office. They were only halfway when he heard Jimin’s breath skip.

Without thinking, he grabbed Jimin and hugged him. “We can change it, this is a terrible idea, he shouldn’t be friends with someone who”—

“No,” Jimin said, pushing back. He blinked away a few tears and stared at Hoseok. “We can’t do that. He has to have a choice, Hoseok. He has to have a choice if he’s going to make it through this.”

“Jimin, but, he”—

“I was here two years with no choice,” Jimin said, and he almost sounded angry. “Two years! But then I chose. I chose life, and I walked out of there, and here I am today. You can’t the choice away from him.”

Hoseok could feel himself shaking. He remembered finding Jimin, shivering with wet hair in the corner of his old apartment. Jimin, saying he’d been ready to kill himself but he needed to know if Hoseok would miss him. That he wanted to live. That he wanted to be with his friends, not trapped in the bonds his family placed on him.

Jimin, standing here in the hospital with tears on his cheeks, insisting that Jungkook had the right to get his heart broken if he wanted. Not only that. They, also, had the right to choose. To choose if they’d let Jungkook be his own person, or if they’d take that away from him.

“You’re right,” Hoseok said. “Let’s hope she makes a miraculous recovery or something. Cause if not, well, it’s gonna hurt like”—

His voice cut off as Jimin stepped back into the hug, pressing his face into Hoseok’s shoulder. Hoseok wrapped his arms around his friend. His best friend. The one he’d missed for two years, thanks to the overbearing choices of someone else.

“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” he whispered.

“You, too,” Jimin whispered against his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooowww that was a long chapter. 6500 words I think?? In a bit of a rush, so that's it for now! Next chapter should be up on Thursday, 9/3, and then back to the normal Friday schedule. Thank you for reading :)


	17. Just One Day: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Since it's been a while since she was mentioned, Seoyeon is the name of Taehyung's older sister
> 
> \--TW for anxiety/panic attacks and flashbacks to domestic violence
> 
> \--Gyeongnam is a real province and Hapcheon is a real city within that province but anything I write in relation to them is completely fictional

Seokjin still wouldn’t talk about it. Taehyung had been to see Jungkook several times, and whenever he returned, he’d update Seokjin, but Seokjin would just nod and continue with whatever he had been doing.

“I’m going to Namjoon’s after school,” Taehyung said. “You should really go see Jungkook. Surgery went well, so, like, he’s going to be okay. You don’t have to feel guilty anymore, even though it definitely wasn’t your fault.”

Seokjin continued typing on his computer, paying no attention.

“At least let you know you heard me,” Taehyung said called, throwing his dishes in the sink.

“I heard,” Seokjin said, “And don’t leave those dishes for me.”

“Sorry, running late,” Taehyung said as he grabbed his backpack and kicked on his shoes.

“No, you’re not, you little…” Seokjin called, but Taehyung was already out the door and running down the stairs. He briefly glanced at the apartment on the floor below, empty and quiet for nearly a week now. He wondered if the girl had told her friends she was leaving.

School went as it always did: boring classes and boring teachers and boring study sessions. As the last bell rang, he was already planning the next art project he’d throw on the wall behind the 22nd bus station. He’d have gone there immediately, if Namjoon wasn’t expecting him.

As things were, Taehyung was pretty certain he’d be moving in with Seokjin permanently. Not that he liked him better than Namjoon. Namjoon was a lot more fun, and definitely the person Taehyung felt the closest to. But the fact was Namjoon had next to nothing, and Taehyung living with him long-term was never going to work.

Seokjin had better food. And a couch Taehyung could sleep on, instead of feeling guilty taking Namjoon’s bed or dealing with the ache in his back after sleeping on the floor. And a bathroom. Taehyung had never appreciated having a bathroom in his house until he had to walk three blocks to find one. 

Did Namjoon really need to send all his earnings to his family? If they knew how he was living in Seoul, Taehyung was sure they wouldn’t approve. Who wanted their kid living in an abandoned container and eating food from gas stations every day and showering at a truck stop? There had to be some other way.

He sighed as he turned the last corner and scrambled down the drive into the old train yard. An old man nodded at him as he passed, and Taehyung bowed quickly before moving on. 

No one stayed in this place for long. Namjoon was really the only one who had been here for more than a week or two at a time. No, actually, there was one other kid. The one with the sunglasses who would sometimes stare creepily at Taehyung from on top of a rusted out boxcar. Taehyung was almost convinced the kid was a serial killer, but Namjoon insisted he was just lost and alone like the rest of them, only a little less lucky. He could never seem to find a place in one of the better empty train cars or storage containers around the property. Someone older and more assertive always threw him out.

Taehyung knocked on Namjoon’s door.

No answer.

“Namjoon? You there?”

Namjoon had fixed a bolt on the door, but it only worked from the inside. Otherwise, he just trusted that no one would steal his things while he was gone. Not that there was much to steal. Worn-out books had little to offer to the nearly-homeless.

So Taehyung opened the door and stepped inside.

The container was exactly as it had been. The unmade bed, the desk covered in falling-apart books, the pile of old blankets on the floor.

Namjoon wasn’t here.

Taehyung sat down at the desk and pulled out his phone. He texted his friend, wondering if maybe plans had changed. Maybe Namjoon had run to the convenience store. 

He waited half an hour, but Namjoon didn’t show or respond.

Something was wrong.

He walked to the convenience store, since it was closest, but Namjoon wasn’t there. The truck stop, also, was creepily empty.

Namjoon had said he had the day off, and that’s why they’d planned on hanging out, but maybe things had changed. Maybe he’d had to cover someone’s shift and had forgotten to tell Taehyung.

Namjoon wasn’t outside at the gas pumps. Taehyung walked into the quick mart and up to the counter.

“Can I help you?” said the boy behind it, not looking up from his phone.

“Has Namjoon been here today?” Taehyung asked.

The boy snorted. “Nah. Don’t even know if he still has a job here.”

A strange shiver ran up Taehyung’s spine. “Why? Is he in trouble?”

“Oh, the manager allowed it,” the boy said, rolling his eyes, “I have no idea why.”

“What did he do?”

“So, the mail shows up yesterday.” The boy set his phone down and turned his full attention to Taehyung. “There’s something here for him. Don’t know where the guy lives, but all his mail shows up here. It’s really annoying, but hey. On his break, I give it to him. This white envelope. He opens it while he’s drinking his coffee, and like, all the color drains out of his face. He runs into the back office, and a minute later, he’s out the door.”

“Where was he going?”

“Hell if I know,” the boy said. “Manager said he wouldn’t be back until next week. But you know the guy, right? He vanished before for over a year. I doubt we’ll see him again, if I’m being honest.”

Why would Namjoon leave again? When things were finally starting to work out?

“Hey, you feeling okay? You look sick.”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung said.

“Just don’t throw up on my floor is all I’m saying.”

Taehyung turned to leave. A panic was rising inside of him, and he thought it was entirely possible he might throw up, or even pass out.

He paused at the doorway. “The letter,” Taehyung said.

“Hmm?”

“Did you see where it was from?”

“I guess he might have gone there. Don’t know why.”

“Where?” Taehyung asked, turning around.

“Okay, just chill out. It was from Gyeongnam province. That’s all I remember.”

Gyeongnam?

Why would Namjoon get a letter from Gyeongnam?

Was that where his family was? Where he’d gone before? But where in Gyeongnam? And why? Had something terrible happened?

Taehyung stumbled outside and around to the back of the little store.

Rationally, he knew this was no time to panic. Panicking would not help him find Namjoon. Panicking helped absolutely nothing. But the unexplainable fear fell on him again. He huddled against the dumpster, trying to shrink back as far as he could.

_His father was going to kill Seoyeon. That's why he’d done it._

_The police were going to put him in prison for the rest of his life because he’d killed his father._

_He was calling Namjoon, but Namjoon wasn’t there._

_The blood was everywhere. His shirt. His hands. His face. He could smell it. Taste it._

_He could still hear Seoyeon screaming._

_His father’s body hitting the floor._

_Running. Running._

_And Namjoon wasn’t there. Namjoon had left him. Namjoon was the only person who could save him, and he was gone._

_And the blood—_

_The blood—_

_Seokjin’s blood—_

He rubbed his eyes. _Get it together._ He dropped his phone when he pulled it out of his pocket, but managed to grab it off the pavement. The screen was blurry, and…

_They were coming for him. The police._

_He hadn’t meant to. How could he tell them he hadn’t meant to do it._

_He couldn’t because he had. He had meant to do it. In that moment, the anger was too strong. He’d wanted blood, and he’d gotten it._

He held the phone to his ear as it rang. He waited. Waited.

He knew Seokjin wouldn’t pick up. He wouldn't pick up because he was dead and Tae had killed him and he was going to be locked up for the rest of his life and the worst part was he deserved it, he deserved it, what sort of monster would kill another human—

“Taehyung, what’s up?”

Seokjin’s voice.

He wasn’t dead.

Taehyung hadn’t killed anybody.

The blood on his hands. The horror in his chest. It wasn't real, but he still felt it.

“Tae, are you there?”

He should just hang up. Seokjin was alive, that’s all he needed to know. If he said anything…

“Tae?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung choked, hating how he said it. That once again Seokjin would know he couldn't handle it. That the fear was always there. They’d freed him from his father, but still, here was no escape.

“Are you hurt? What happened? Where are you?”

Tae took a deep breath, and tried to steady his voice. “I’m okay. But…”

_You aren't okay. You’re a monster. You will always be a monster. There’s no saving you._

“Taehyung.”

Seokjin.

“Umm, can you… do you think… you could come get me? I’m not… I’m…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Tell me where you are.”

Taehyung told him.

“I'll be there in twenty. Hold tight, kid.”

Taehyung slid his phone back in his pocket.

Seokjin was coming.

In another time, Taehyung had killed him. They both knew it. And still, Seokjin was coming for him.

##

Taehyung huddled in the passenger seat of Seokjin’s car. He took a sip of the warm tea Seokjin had brought him from the mini mart.

“Think you’re going to be okay?” Seokjin asked. He started to reach for Taehyung, but stopped, and Taehyung forced a smile.

“I think so,” Taehyung said. His voice was only shaking a little, and he no longer felt the impending panic that he was either going to kill or be killed. All that remained was the tremors as the adrenaline slowly left his body.

“So, I’m taking it Namjoon vanished again.”

Taehyung nodded.

“No trace?”

“One clue,” Taehyung said. “The employee said he got a letter. Didn’t remember the city, but it came from Gyeongnam province.”

“Gyeongnam. That’s pretty broad.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing it was his family. But I have no idea what would make him run out like that, unless it was something awful, and, like, why didn’t he tell me? Why won’t he pick up his phone?”

Seokjin shrugged and turned the key. “You think you’ll be okay to meet someone in half an hour?”

Taehyung wiped his eyes with a napkin. “Probably. Why?”

“I’m going to have dinner with my father tonight, and if I don't take you with me, I’ll be late.”

“I can get home from here,” Taehyung said, “I’m almost okay again.”

Seokjin glanced at him. “I’d really like for you to come with me.”

Taehyung shrugged. “What’s for dinner?”

“Better than anything you make.”

“Rude. But okay. I’ll go. Why, though? You’ve never invited any of us over before.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to discover I’d stolen from his wine cellar,” Seokjin said. “I guess he pays closer attention to his things that I thought.”

“So, you're guessing he won’t yell at you so bad if you bring a friend?”

“Image is everything,” Seokjin said. “Also, I feel like he might be able to help us with this problem.”

Taehyung snorted at that. An adult, able to help them? Well, sure, Seokjin himself was twenty-one, but Taehyung had never known anyone of their parents’ age to be any help at all.

As Seokjin pulled onto the highway, Taehyung asked, “What happened to your mom?”

“She died when I was two,” Seokjin said, “I don’t remember her.”

“Cancer?” Tae asked.

“Cancer,” Seokjin responded.

“My mom, too.” 

Seokjin glanced at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “I was four, though, so I remember her a little, and Seoyeon remembers a lot. She says dad wasn’t so bad before Mom died.”

“Watching someone you love die, well. That has to be the worst. But it’s still no excuse for what he did to you.”

“I know,” Taehyung said. “I mean, look at you.”

“Excuse me?”

Taehyung glanced out the window at the scenery rushing by. He’d rehearsed this conversation for days, but this was probably not the best time to bring it up. Seokjin would probably pull over and throw him out. But he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’ve seen Jungkook die, right?” he said, quietly. “And Yoongi, and maybe even Jimin. But Jungkook, well, that was the worst, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Seokjin muttered.

Taehyung wasn’t done. “And that’s why you’re blaming yourself. Because you’ve seen him die, and you thought you’d saved him, but he still got hurt, and there was nothing you could do about it.” 

He kept staring out the window and waiting for Seokjin to swing over to the shoulder and push him out.

“But it isn’t your fault,” Taehyung continued. “Just like it’s not my fault that my dad beat me. I don't know what sort of hand you have in fate. But I think sometimes fate just throws things at us that we can’t control. That no deal can fix.”

He wasn’t sure if he was saying too much or too little. Part of him wanted to dig deeper, to really push, to try and find out if any of his guesses were right. What Seokjin really knew. What Taehyung himself had done on the edges of his memory.

“You have no idea,” Seokjin said. Taehyung took a quick glance at him. His eyes were on the road, his hands gripping the wheel.

He wasn't denying it. He had seen Jungkook die, in one of those other times. Tae wouldn’t push now, but he’d learned more than he'd expected. Another day, he’d go further.

Now, he was going to be the first of them to see where Seokjin had grown up.

##

There was one part of Taehyung that hated Seokjin for growing up here, in this house with the mahogany floors and the glass chandeliers. The security cameras outside and the housekeeper in the kitchen. The staircase leading up to more rooms, and the door that he assumed led down to even more space. Tasteful artwork adorned the walls, and featured prominently was a portrait of a woman who must have been Seokjin’s mother. Her eyes seemed to follow Tae around the room as he found his seat at the table.

Mr. Kim and his son began with small talk, but all of it was very informative to Taehyung. He’d figured that Seokjin was still taking classes of some sort, and discovered that he was doing online classes through some fancy university in California. He found out Seokjin was considering transferring to Korea University, but his father wanted Seokjin to continue at Stanford, preferably on campus when fall term came around again.

He also discovered that the housekeeper was a really good cook. The meat was cooked to perfection, and each side dish was better than the one before.

The conversation became repetitive. It kept going around to Seokjin’s college. Taehyung didn’t care as long as Seokjin didn’t leave again, which with every passing moment he became more and more convinced was true. 

He lost himself in the portrait for a moment. Her eyes were the most compelling part. Dark and sweet with a sort of knowing behind them. And she was really young, too. If Seokjin was two when she died, that would have been, what, almost twenty years ago? She couldn’t be much older in her portrait than her son was now. 

Staring at her, he felt like she’d understand. She’d understand that he had to do it. There wasn’t a choice. He’d been so young and so scared and if he hadn’t done it he’d—

Seokjin kicked him in the shin and he snapped back to reality.

The painting was just a painting.

“Gyeongnam?” Mr. Kim asked. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t speak of Gyeongnam.”

“It’s not me,” Seokjin said. “Taehyung was curious about it.”

This was an interesting turn. Taehyung looked from Seokjin to his father. They both had a hard look in their eyes.

“My friend disappeared the other day,” Taehyung said, “And that’s the only clue I have to where he went.”

Mr. Kim snorted. “Well, have you tried calling him? Seems simple enough.”

“That’s funny,” Taehyung said, “Because I tried calling Seokjin when he went away, too. And he never called back. Coulda been dead for all I knew.”

Mr. Kim’s hard glance fell on Taehyung now, but it didn’t scare him. If anything, it made him want to search for something even more stinging to throw out.

“I don’t know your friend, and I don’t know his reasoning,” Mr. Kim said. “Gyeongnam is a large province. He could be anywhere.”

Taehyung was searching for an appropriate comeback when Seokjin spoke up. “We don’t know a lot about Namjoon,” he said, “But we do know that he doesn’t have a lot of money.”

“Housing is far cheaper in Gyeongnam than Seoul.”

“We also know that his father is very sick and moved to the countryside two years ago. Namjoon sends all he makes working to support his family.”

This broke the hardness in the room. Mr. Kim’s eyes flicked towards the portrait of his dead wife. Even Seokjin’s gaze faltered, and he stared at his empty plate.

Taehyung finished his soup. He didn’t feel like it was his place to comment anymore.

“Is that how it is?” Mr. Kim said at last.

“That’s how it is,” Seokjin said.

“We’re finished here. Come with me.”

Mr. Kim stood. Seokjin met Taehyung’s eyes. There was a sadness in his glance, but hope, too. There was history here that Taehyung knew nothing about. He’d just have to follow along and do his best.

They went down the stairs: Mr. Kim, then Seokjin, then Taehyung. Taehyung could see Seokjin’s shoulders stiffen as they descended.

At the bottom, they emerged into a dimly lit room. There was a pool table in the center. Built into the wall on the left was a huge safe. On the back wall was a wet bar, with a door behind it that Taehyung assumed led to the wine cellar.

“Sit,” Mr. Kim said. Seokjin listened to him, sitting in one of the bar stools, so Taehyung did the same.

Mr. Kim disappeared into the back room and came back with two bottles in each hand. He set them on the bar.

One was a bottle of champagne. “This,” he said, “Your mother and I received in France. We made a connection with a business associate that shouldn’t have been possible.”

The next was the smallest bottle. Taehyung couldn’t read the label, but he felt it was probably whiskey. “This was given to your mother by the governor of California, when our firm was able to provide a security system for his daughter and her family.”

He turned the next bottle, this one of wine, towards them. “Your mother and I purchased two bottles of this. The first we drank when her first design went public. We said we’d drink the next once we’d made a million dollars. She was so certain we would.”

Only one bottle remained, but Taehyung didn’t want to look at it. Of them all, it was most familiar. 

“This,” Mr. Kim said, “I purchased myself.”

He took three shot glasses from below the counter and then opened the bottle of cheap soju.

The smell of it hit Taehyung like a truck. Stars filled his vision, and the voices around him seemed to be echoes.

He heard the liquid pour into the three glasses.

Mr. Kim and Seokjin took the shots in unison.

“It’s disrespectful to not drink something your elder pours for you,” Mr. Kim said.

Taehyung couldn’t say a word. He knew he was here, in the Kim family’s basement, but he felt he was hiding in the closet of his old apartment while Seoyeon begged their father not to hurt him. 

_“Daddy, please. Please don’t hurt him. It’s my fault, Daddy. I’m the one who”—_

_“SHUT UP!”_

“He’s seventeen,” Seokjin said.

“I’m the adult here. He won’t be wandering off drunk.”

_Seoyeon crying out._

_The closet door opening._

“I’m not going to drink it,” Taehyung said, the clearness of his voice surprising even him. “Not ever.”

Mr. Kim snorted again. “Are you even Korean?”

_His father’s silhouette in the dim light. Taehyung tried to shrink back into the piles of clothes. His father’s breath surrounded him. Hands grabbed the front of his shirt. Dragged him out into the light._

“This is supposed to be about Gyeongnam,” Seokjin said.

“This is supposed to be about you taking eighteen bottles of booze without even telling me you were stopping by,” Mr. Kim said.

_“Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t”—_

_Taste of blood. Stars and pain. Shouts he couldn’t clearly hear._

_“Please, I promise I’ll never”—_

_Again. Again. Again._

_Seoyeon. Her voice an echo. “Stop, Daddy! Stop hurting him! You’re hurting him!”_

He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t. The memory was too strong, the fear was crushing his heart. Seokjin’s father was going to kill them. He was going to kill them, unless Tae killed him first, but no, no, he couldn’t do that, his hands had gone numb, he was going to pass out, he was going to throw up, everything was crumbling, falling—

_A final scream cutting off into—_

Seokjin took the glass in front of Taehyung and drank it.

“There,” he said, “What point is this supposed to prove? If a kid doesn’t want to drink you shouldn’t make him.”

“Traditions have a way of passing down,” Mr. Kim said.

“People have lives you know nothing about,” Seokjin said, his voice shaking. “Traditions that hurt people should end.”

“Do you really agree with that?”

“Just tell me why we’re here,” Seokjin said.

“You’ll get just as drunk on soju as you will anything else,” Mr. Kim said. “But it won’t fix a thing. I bought this the day your mother died and didn’t open it until today. Gyeongnam province. That’s where I was. There’s this place just outside of Hapcheon. A healing center, they call it, but it’s more of a hospice. I’ve known very few people to come out of it healed. Beautiful, though. Gardens all around. Your mother loved flowers, Seokjin. Did you know that? Spent her life creating technology and tripwires, but what she truly loved were the things humans didn’t invent.”

Taehyung leaned his forearms on the bar and took a deep breath. He’d be okay. This was why they were here. Mr. Kim had put the lid back on the bottle and tucked it away. The smell was fading. He wasn’t going to hurt them. Never had planned to.

Most fathers didn’t kill their children.

(But also, most children didn’t kill their fathers).

“Please see me in my office before you leave,” Mr. Kim said. “I hope you’ll come by more often, Seokjin. I’d rather you were in America, for the sake of your education, but I do miss you.”

Seokjin didn’t say anything.

Taehyung heard Mr. Kim’s footsteps ascend the stairs and fade into the rest of the house.

Taehyung focused on breathing. Bringing himself back to the now. Seoyeon was staying with friends in Incheon. Their father had a restraining order. Taehyung himself was here, with Seokjin, perfectly safe.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin said, “I didn’t know he was going to do this.”

Taehyung’s focus came back, and he looked at Seokjin. “Hey, it’s no big deal. It’s kinda my fault. I mean, any other seventeen-year-old would love to have alcohol just given to them, right?” He forced a smile, but Seokjin didn’t look at him.

Seokjin was staring at the empty glasses in front of him, his eyebrows drawn together. “I try, and I try, and I just wish… just once I could be free of it.”

“Free of what?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“I do, though. I mean, if you haven’t realized it already, I kinda moved into your house. I’m your friend. I’ve told you a million times that Jungkook’s accident wasn’t your fault. And, like, your dad can rant all he wants about California, but your future is your choice.”

“Is it?” Seokjin asked.

“Well, whatever choices we’ve made,” Taehyung said, carefully, “I don’t think they’re all set yet, if you get my meaning. We still can choose. At least a little bit.”

“Can we?” Seokjin asked, his voice hollow. “Nothing I’ve done seems to be for any good. I think I solve the biggest problem, and another just steps out in front of me.”

“Find your own problem, then,” Taehyung said. “Don’t let another one find you.”

Seokjin laid his head on his arms and took a deep breath. When he sat up, his face was clear, even if his eyes were still sad.

“I wish I remembered my mother. I think I might understand my father a little more, if I knew how she saw him.”

He turned towards the stairs.

“Memories are a funny thing,” Taehyung whispered as he followed, but if Seokjin heard, he didn’t acknowledge it.

##

Seokjin was halfway to the car. Taehyung was a bit behind, thanking the housekeeper for the delicious meal. He didn’t want her to think he was ungrateful.

As he turned to follow Seokjin, Mr. Kim touched his shoulder.

Taehyung bit his lip and repressed the shudder. Ignored the impulse to slap the hand away from him.

“He can’t fix this,” Mr. Kim said.

Taehyung looked at him.

“You know,” Mr. Kim said. “You know what he’s done.”

Taehyung didn’t, not clearly, but if he opened his mouth he didn’t know what would come out, so he stayed quiet.

“Keep an eye on him. When you get back from Hapcheon, that is.”

Mr. Kim placed an envelope in Taehyung’s hand and released him. And Taehyung looked at him— 

Tae walked down the stairs, putting focus into every breath so he wouldn’t collapse on the concrete.

##

The shiver remained.

Four hours later, tucked under three blankets on the couch in Seokjin’s apartment, the tremors were still running through his body.

Seokjin’s father knew something.

He knew something.

He hadn’t imagined it. The look in the eyes of the painting. Because the exact same look had come from Seokjin’s father.

Taehyung had thought it would all be okay. Sure, he expected he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, not after being hit with panic twice in a day. But that look…

And what he’d said…

What was wrong with them? What had Seokjin done, to give him the ability to…

Did Tae even dare think it? 

It was impossible. There was no way that Seokjin could reset time.

And yet…

There was no other explanation that made any more sense.

Mr. Kim was not all bad. In fact, he probably wasn’t bad at all. A little misguided, maybe. A little overbearing. But inside the envelope he’d given Taehyung was a bus ticket to Hapcheon on Saturday morning (to make sure he didn’t skip school, Taehyung was sure), and money for the return trip.

One more day at school, and then he’d follow Namjoon. He’d show him he couldn’t get away that easily. Taehyung’s friends had vanished on him once before, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen again.

Not after everything.

Not when he was so close to realizing what was happening, and, even more importantly, why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say it--I love writing from Taehyung's POV. The kid is so messed up from all that's happened to him and it's just so unfair, but he's still trying. He's trying to make things better even though he hardly knows what's wrong and GOSH I just really like writing his scenes so much. 
> 
> Next week, I should be back to the normal Friday posting schedule. However, I start college at the end of the month, and due to scheduling, may have to change my regular posting day to Saturday?? We'll have to just wait and see. As for now, though, _Just One Day,_ Chapter 6, will be posted on Friday, September 11th, 2020.
> 
> (I've begun another story, as well. It's the opposite of this one in every way: no regular schedule, I haven't written chapters and chapters in advance, it's not based on MVs, and its 90% fluff. It features TXT working at a summer camp, and if you want to read something far lighter and less complicated than this fic, you should check it out).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	18. Just One Day: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Nothing about Jungkook's injury/surgery/recovery is at all medically accurate. Everything about it exists for the sake of plot and character and more importantly, EMOTIONS.   
> -I've done a bit more research on epilepsy, but not *that* much, so I'm sorry if I get anything wrong.

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“Want to wheel yourself, bro?” Jimin replied.

“I would if they’d let me, but…”

“Then keep your mouth shut. We’ll get there when we get there. I don’t want to get pulled over for reckless driving.”

Jungkook sighed and laid his head back, listening to the squeaking of the wheels as Jimin pushed him down the hall.

Earlier, Mikyeong had stopped by his room to tell him she had a surprise for him and that he should come over at one o’clock.

Later, at three, he would have his first therapy session, where, in theory, he would stand for the first time. It might go well, but it just as easily could go very badly. Dr. Yang had said it might be as painful as the accident itself.

He wasn’t looking forward to it.

But this? Mikyeong, having a surprise for him? Something she knew he’d like, and she wanted Jimin to come, too?

At 1:02, they reached her door. She threw it open before Jungkook could even knock.

“Late, I see,” she said, dramatically.

“I wasn’t driving,” Jungkook said.

“Jimin, I thought more of you. With your poker skills, I thought you’d be whipping around corners, pushing the limits of physics.”

Jimin said nothing, and Jungkook couldn’t see what his face looked like. Probably that little smile he used whenever he didn’t know what words to say.

“Can we come in?” Jungkook asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. The surprise was for 1:00, and it’s—yes”—she glanced at her wrist, even though she wasn’t wearing a watch—“1:03, if I’m not mistaken.”

Jungkook looked up at her.

“Gosh, if you’re going to give me those puppy dog eyes… okay. Come in.”

With a dramatic flourish she stepped back and let them come in.

Jungkook saw it, and his heart skipped a beat. Against the far wall, there was a keyboard. Jimin wheeled him over.

“Mom wanted to make it higher, but I told her that I knew the measurements of the average wheelchair and this was perfect, and, look at that, I was right.”

Jungkook pushed the power button, and the LCD screen glowed blue. Yoongi had never liked keyboards, why play at all if you weren’t playing the real thing, but…

“You’re supposed to save your strength,” Jimin said.

“Playing a song or two won’t hurt him,” Mikyeong said. “And he has you as his slow yet reliable driver.”

“Jungkook?” Jimin asked.

“I think I’ll just…” Jungkook trailed off, the keys smooth underneath his fingers.

He played a chord.

The music jumped out of the speakers.

“Well?” she asked.

“It’s been a long time since I played,” he said.

“Come on. Music’s just like riding a bike, right?”

Jungkook closed his eyes. Rested both hands on the keys.

He remembered.

As the music flowed from his fingers, he figured there was no way he could fail at something so simple as standing.

##

“Jungkook, you did good,” Jimin said.

Jungkook couldn’t respond. 

He could hardly breathe.

“Dr. Yang said he expected this. It doesn’t mean you failed. It just might take a little longer than he first thought.”

Inhale. Exhale. Just wait. They’ll start the pain meds soon.

He’d stood for less than a second. A brief feeling that he controlled his legs, his future—

Pain like he’d never felt had shot up his spine. Was still shooting up his spine. A horrible tingling ran up and down his legs. His lungs weren’t fully healed yet, and the ragged breaths he drew in weren’t enough.

His next exhale turned into a moan, and the one after that crept towards a scream.

“Nurse! Nurse, it’s hurting him, I think he needs his medicine.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin. Dr. Yang says he has to wait it out a little longer, or his therapy earlier won’t be worth anything.”

“But something must be wrong, it shouldn’t be this bad”—

“Next time, it won’t be so bad,” the nurse said. “He needs to fight through it.”

Next time? There wouldn’t be a next time. He couldn’t do this again.

“But there has to be something”—

“Jimin.” The nurse was firm. “There is nothing you or I can do except be here for him.”

Every gasp of air was like a hundred wasps stinging up and down his spine. There, that one particularly stung in the second or third vertebrae in the, oh, gosh, what did Mikyeong say that region was called…

“I tried,” Jimin said, “I tried. I’m sorry. I can’t do anything.”

Jungkook wanted to say it was fine, that he knew Jimin was trying, but he only managed a cry of pain.

Jimin grabbed his hand. That didn’t hurt. Jungkook clung to him, this one place where his body wasn’t throbbing. Jimin’s fingers were cold. Colder than they should be, he thought. He wondered if Jimin was sick. If he’d caught something from hanging out in the hospital for so long. If it was really bad and he’d die all because he’d been there for Jungkook and—

This time, it was like someone driving an axe into his lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jimin’s words blurred around as the pain filled him again.

##

Jimin glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes remained until they could knock Jungkook out.

He wasn’t screaming anymore. He just lay there, trembling. Perspiration glistened on his forehead, and his hair was a sweaty mess on his pillow.

Dr. Yang had checked in an hour ago, and instructed that they put him on an IV for hydration. He hadn’t thought a fever would be a side effect.

Jimin had wanted to yell at him that he didn’t know anything because he’d never done this surgery before, but he held his tongue.

If Jungkook had any chance to walk again, this man was the reason.

The door opened behind him, but Jimin was too exhausted to turn around.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

“Dear goodness, I thought it might be this way.”

Mikyeong. 

He should tell her to leave. Jungkook wouldn’t want her here. To see him like this.

“Such a surgery would have inevitably have serious repercussions with the healing nerves. I tried to tell him.”

“Who? Jungkook?” Jimin asked.

“No, Dr. Yang. He doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m some sort of punk kid.”

Jimin thought that was a very apt description of Cho Mikyeong, but he didn’t say it.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open.

“Yo, Jungkook,” said Mikyeong. “Too bad you’re still conscious. Looks like it hurts, but as I was just telling Jimin, I called it. When are they giving you the meds?”

“Not until eight,” Jimin answered.

Mikyeong dragged a chair over and sat down. “I guess I’ll entertain you, a bit,” she said, “Though I’ll let you know: My theatrics are a little over the top.”

Was Jimin imagining things, or had Jungkook just smiled? His breath was still stuttering, and his face lined with pain, but his lips had twitched a little.

“So this story is about Jeon Jungkook,” she began, “And before you say, ‘Hey! That’s me!’ I would like to say, well, duh, of course it’s you. Just a little bit different you. One that didn’t get hit by a truck. Also, you’re kind of a famous musician. K-pop idol? Ehh, no. Let’s stick with solo artist. But, like, just as famous as any k-pop idol. Girls all over the world would die to date you. But one day, while you’re playing piano in the Tokyo dome…”

##

“You know,” Jungkook said, “I knew it would be like this. I knew it would.”

“Yeah,” Jimin replied, simply glad that Jungkook was talking, “Sure you did.”

“And it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be happy, so it’s okay. I’m going to die, though,” Jungkook continued, his words slurring together.

“You’re not dying,” Mikyeong said, her voice sharp.

“He’s fine,” Jimin whispered to her, “He always says things like this.”

Jungkook closed his eyes. “Don’t listen to that cat. Neither of you. It’s not a good cat. I thought all cats were good, before I met this one. And besides, I’ve got it covered. You won’t remember me, and it’s okay. It’s okay. Because I love you, you know? All of you? You’ll tell Yoongi, won’t you? Before he forgets me?”

“Yes,” Jimin said, “I’ll tell him.”

A smile came over Jungkook’s face, and then he was out.

“That was concerning,” Mikyeong whispered.

“It’s the pain meds,” Jimin said, “Make him really loopy before he falls asleep.

“He can’t hear us anymore?”

“He’s totally out.”

“Can I talk to you, then? Just for a few minutes?”

Jimin felt a cold tremor inside his chest. He didn’t really want to talk to her. Every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but think about how incredibly fun she was, and how awful it would be when she wasn’t here anymore.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah, you can talk. What’s up?”

He scooted his chair back so he could see her face. He would not be afraid. She wasn’t dead yet.

“What are you sick with?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“What makes you think I’m sick?”

“You underestimate my powers. I’ve lived here for years, and so did you.”

Jimin didn’t deny it.

“I never met you, though,” she said, “And I meet a lot of people. Like, anyone who’s here for more than a month, and I at least meet them. Except for patients in one wing.”

Jimin looked down.

“I wandered there once. Just a few months after my first surgery. And, well. I don’t want to talk about what happened, but it was really scary, so mom made me promise not to go back.”

Jimin still didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve done my research, though,” she said, “I understand things now. I had to, if I was going to get over… well, whatever happened. And I want to know what sort of disorder they diagnosed you with.”

That was an interesting way to phrase it. He looked up at her.

She shrugged. “I’m guessing it wasn’t fully accurate, whatever it was. There’s very few things that will keep you locked in here for as long as you were, especially for them to just let you out again.”

“There really is something wrong with me,” Jimin said, slowly. “But I’m not quite sure anyone knows what it is.” 

“Can I give it a try?”

“I’m sorry, but if actual doctors couldn’t figure it out, I don’t think you’ll be able to help me.”

“Maybe not. But I think about things in different ways than doctors do, and I’m good at explaining things. I’m guessing none of your doctors ever explained anything to you?”

“Not that I can remember,” Jimin said.

“Then, whenever you’re ready, let’s begin.”

Jimin looked at her, this sick girl with her hair in messy pigtails, her eyes staring so intently at him.

“I have seizures,” he said.

“No brain damage or tumors?” 

“Nothing like that,” he said.

“I’m guessing they diagnosed epilepsy?”

Jimin shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Any family history?”

“No.”

“What sort of seizures?”

“Ummm?”

Mikyeong sighed. “Petit mal? Grand mal? Tonic? Clonic?”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

Concern fell over her face. “They really told you nothing? And kept you in a room in the psych ward for two years?”

Jimin nodded.

A nurse came in to check on Jungkook, and silence fell between Jimin and Mikyeong.

“This is all very interesting,” Mikyeong said once the nurse had left, “But I think it would be better if we were in my room. More privacy.”

“Why do we need privacy?”

“I just don’t want anyone listening in. And I’m getting very tired of sitting. I think I need to lie down. Can I use your arm?”

Jimin nodded. He glanced back at Jungkook’s soundly sleeping form. Mikyeong leaned on his arm, and they walked towards her room. When they finally got there, her face was pale and her breathing short and sharp.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I can”—

“I’m fine,” she snapped, “Just help me onto my bed, and then we’ll get back to the subject at hand."

It wasn’t quite that easy. Jimin practically lifted her onto the mattress. She was even lighter than she looked. She laid back on the pillows, eyes closed, simply breathing. Jimin sat on the end of her bed and wondered if he should ignore her wishes and send for a nurse, but with each minute, the color returned to her face, and her breathing became more normal. He was almost certain she’d fallen asleep, but then she spoke.

“What are the seizures like, for you?”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

“If you really don’t want to, fine. But I’m just trying to help, since obviously there's something shady going down in the psych ward.”

“And that’s why we had to come to your room? Spies from the psych ward listening in on us?”

“No. This room is just safer. Less sharp edges.” 

Oh. So she thought he might have a seizure just from talking about them. His face must have showed his realization, because she said, “But, well, if you don’t want to risk anything, you can just sit there for a little, and then go home.”

Jimin considered. He didn’t want to talk more about his seizures, but, well, this girl had talked for hours to Jungkook about the spinal column and it had seemed to help him process his injury a little better. Maybe she could help him, too. “I guess I can tell you a little more,” he said.

“Good. What do you know about seizures?”

“Auras,” he said, “I know about auras.”

“And you get them?”

He nodded. “Not with every seizure. But sometimes, I can hear colors, it seems like, and feel the light in the air. I can usually tell how bad it’s going to be by how strong the aura is.”

“Interesting.”

“Sometimes, though,” he said, “There’s no aura. I’m just standing and then BAM I wake up on the floor.”

“What happens when you wake up?”

“I don’t remember anything, while simultaneously feeling like I’ve been in that place a thousand times before. I’m scared for my life. Death is pressing in upon me, and I don’t want it to. Sometimes I’ve hurt myself while I’m, well…”

“Convulsing?”

“Yeah. Hit my head. Bruised my knees. Stuff like that. And, like, I feel like, I feel like, I feel like…”

He trailed off.

Her voice was like an echo. “Jimin. Jimin, look at me. Jimin. Come on.”

He looked at her.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

He shook his head.

“Do you want to take off your shoes?”

He glanced down. His hands were on his ankles, and…

And…

He took off his shoes.

Yes.

This was why he was in the psych ward, wasn’t it? 

“Compulsively hurting yourself,” Mikyeong whispered. 

“Scratching your feet. Looks like some of those scars would have bled pretty bad. Almost like your subconscious wanted…”

Wanted what? Wanted what? What did he want?

Blood… blood… blood…

“Jimin. Get off the bed.”

He stared at the fresh scratches over year-old scars.

“Don’t make me force you, please.” 

_Get off the bed._

Jimin stumbled. Fell, mostly. But he was fine. He was fine. As fine as he could be, staring at the faint scars on his ankles. Scars he knew had come from himself, even though he didn’t remember…

_Blood all over his feet._

“When did the seizures start, Jimin? How old were you?”

He saw the words in the air, falling down onto the soft pink comforter. A scent he’d never smelled in the real world flooded around him.

“Can you hear me? Jimin?”

_They were going to kill him._

“That was worse than I thought. I’m sorry.”

_Run run run._

He felt the cold floor beneath him. Opened his eyes and saw a discarded slipper. Some dust bunnies. A faded rose.

He was all alone in an empty world, no one left but him.

Fingers brushed his forehead.

Why was he crying?

“Jimin. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, or tried to say.

“Is that what usually happens?”

What had happened? _Usually?_ Was there a _usually_? Had something happened?

Where was he?

“Do you want me to call someone?”

Yes. Yes, he did. Hoseok. Hoseok always helped. His best friend. But…

No.

He could be fine, as long as he wasn’t alone. 

And he wasn’t.

She was here.

What was her name?

Mikyeong. That was it. The girl who wanted to be a doctor.

He shakily pushed himself up. Leaned against the bed. Met the eyes of the dying kid in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He was already crying. Nothing else to lose. “Jungkook knows you’re dying, right?” he asked.

“I’ve only mentioned it half a dozen times, but I think he gets the picture.”

“I wish you wouldn’t die.”

“Wishes are funny things,” she said. She reached back to her nightstand and grabbed a kleenex for him. “Usually they come true. Just not in ways I expect.”

Jimin wiped his eyes. A wave of nausea rolled over him, but he managed to keep it at bay. Nothing would be worse that vomiting all over the girl in front of him.

“For example, I wished I could know what was wrong with you. And now I think I might.”

“What, really?” Jimin said.

“I think something happened to you. Something really bad. And we don’t have to think about it now, because this has been a lot already. I don’t think PTSD can be the only thing that causes a seizure, but a flashback definitely triggered this one. And your feet… that’s just odd. Not, like, freaky weird, just not what I expected at all. I can’t believe there was nothing about that in your file.”

“My file?”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s illegal, but I sometimes read medical files, when the mood strikes me. Lets me learn stuff. I’ve been here for almost five years, and my mom won’t let me have a phone. I’ll die before I can leave and tell anyone your medical secrets, so really, how bad can it be? Oh, gosh, you’re shivering, let’s get you off the floor.”

She managed to help him up to her little couch, and she sat next to him. Didn’t seem to mind him laying his head on her shoulder while he focused on breathing and coming back to now.

“So,” he said, after nearly half an hour of quiet, “Dr. Cho, is there anything I can do to fix myself?”

“Shut up, I could never be a doctor. And, no, I don’t think so. At least, I don’t know yet. I’ll do some more research, though, and when you feel strong enough to give me more information on your life, well, I’ll take it.”

He nodded.

It was nearly an hour before he felt strong enough to go home. Hoseok had expected him at dance tonight, and would probably be worried. It sucked, that both of them couldn’t have a phone at the same time, but Hoseok had needed it today in order to try and find Jimin a job.

Jimin, who had spent the last hour recovering from a seizure in the hospital room of a dying kid who thought she could figure out what was wrong with him with medical knowledge she’d apparently picked up by sneaking into confidential patient files and charming doctors into teaching her what they knew.

And she was only seventeen.

“Why don’t you become a doctor?” he asked as he put his shoes back on. “You’re definitely smart enough.”

“Forgot one key detail,” she said, crossing the room to her bed. She held up her arm which was continuously hooked to an IV cart. “It takes eight years to get a doctorate. And I’m dying.”

“But you might not,” Jimin said.

She smiled, and looked sadder than he’d ever seen her. “Wishes, Jimin. Never get answered how you want them to.”

“Thanks for helping Jungkook, by the way.”

“Ehh. I’ve been wanting to teach someone about the spinal column for well over a year. He’s not the best student, but he’s sweet. You need to get the heck out of here, before Hoseok comes looking for you. Now, that guy has problems. I don't think I have the energy to even begin looking into them, though.”

He sort of wanted to ask what she meant by that, but figured he’d exhausted her enough with his issues.

“Goodnight, Mikyeong,” he said.

Jimin quietly closed the door behind him and left.

##

Day five.

He’d stood for a full minute before the pain knocked him down again.

Jungkook lay alone in his hospital room, gritting his teeth together. He could do it. He could make it.

Jimin had a job interview today. Jungkook had told him to go, because it wasn’t so bad.

And it wasn’t.

That first day was still a nightmare. The second, too. All that had kept him sane was Jimin holding his hand and Mikyeong continuing the epic story of his rise to fame and fortune. 

He’d told Jimin to go.

He would be fine.

Today, he’d stood for a whole minute.

His back didn’t hurt so bad. Sure, it was the center of it, and the throbbing echoed throughout his still-healing ribs. The main pain was now his legs. They itched horribly, and stinging pains exploded along the entire length of them.

He tried to convince himself it was okay.

Feeling something was better than nothing.

He’d told Jimin that Mikyeong would be stopping by to help him through this, but he doubted she would. She’d seemed really weak during yesterday’s storytime, and he thought that maybe coming all the way to his room every day was too much for her.

A nurse came over to him, her shoes making a sticking sound as she walked along the linoleum. “Jungkook,” she said, “You have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” he asked. His voice was only trembling a little bit.

“Someone who hasn’t been here in a long time,” the nurse said, “He wants to surprise you. Shall I show him in?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said. The pain faded for a moment, and a flash of hope lit though his mind. Probably it was Namjoon. He hadn’t been in here in weeks, what with his work schedule. Taehyung hadn’t stopped by since the surgery, so it could be him. But, maybe…

Maybe it was Yoongi.

Maybe he’d realized it wasn’t his fault and he’d be here and he’d know Jungkook didn’t blame him at all and—

“Hello, little brother.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, then sped up. He stared at the ceiling. Gripped the sheets with his fingertips. The pain resounded through his legs, but it was nothing compared to the cold that fell over everything.

He thought about screaming for the nurse, but he couldn’t make a sound.

“It’s been a long time.”

He stared at the ceiling. If he didn’t see him, maybe he’d disappear.

Kangmin leaned over his face, his cold, empty eyes staring down into Jungkook’s. “They said it would be incredibly painful, if you made it this far. I didn’t think you would.”

His brother’s face disappeared. Jungkook heard a chair scraping across the floor. It stopped. Kangmin sat down.

“Look at me, little brother.”

He reached out and took Junkook’s chin. He tilted his face towards him.

Jungkook couldn’t fight it.

He learned early there was no way he could defend himself.

“I’ll say, I don’t really mind,” Kangmin said, “But it took forever for that pathetic kid to finally leave. Does he even have a life? I swear, he’s never left since that car smashed into you. God, I wish I could have seen that.”

Just stay quiet and wait for him to stop. That’s what Jungkook always did.

“Where does it hurt the worst, little brother?”

Jungkook stared at the ceiling.

“Oh? You won’t tell me?”

There were no cameras.

The nurse on duty probably wanted to give him some time alone with his brother.

She didn’t know. 

No one knew.

##

Jungkook had learned not to cry.

No matter how many times Kangmin had hit him. Kicked him. Knocked him against the wall until he saw stars.

Today, all he did was touch him.

Place his hands along Jungkook’s legs. Barely squeezing at all. Wouldn’t leave a mark.

It was enough. 

The pain tore through him. The nurses told him touching his legs would make it worse. He wondered if they’d told Kangmin. He wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t. Screaming was like crying. No help at all. His parents, if they heard, would simply laugh and say Jungkook needed to learn to stand up for himself.

There was never any standing up to Kangmin.

Kangmin was bigger and stronger and crueler. He liked it, more than anything. Watching the pain flash across Jungkook’s face.  
He wondered how much longer it would last. It was over an hour until they’d give him his pain meds.

Jimin could never leave again.

He couldn’t tell him why.

Kangmin dug his fingers into Jungkook’s knee, and Jungkook gasped.

“Oho, so that’s where it really gets you,” he said. “Is the other leg just as bad?”

Jungkook braced himself, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood.

The door opened.

Kangmin pulled away from him.

Probably just a temporary reprieve. A nurse to check his vitals. Nothing would seem wrong. And then she’d leave again, and Kangmin would—

“Who are you?” said an angelic voice.

It was Mikyeong.

Kangmin skittered back from the bed, knocking his chair over.

“Umm, I’m, umm…” Kangmin said, “I’m… I’m just going. Sorry. Umm.”

The door closed behind him.

He was gone.

“That was really weird. Didn’t even set the chair back up for me. Quite the gentleman, that one.”

A wave of emotions hit Jungkook so hard that he laughed, even though the pain was still welling around his knees and he felt like he was drenched in hot blood.

“You don’t look so good,” Mikyeong said.

“Part of the recovery,” he gasped.

“Not today, it isn’t. Who was that? Something was seriously off with him.”

She’d caught his brother off guard, that was all. Girls made Kangmin incredibly nervous. He’d gotten much better at hiding it over the years, but to have a pretty girl walk in on him unannounced…

It was just what he deserved.

“He’s my stepbrother,” Jungkook said.

“Oh,” she said. “Ohhhh. OHHHHHH. Well. That makes… ummm…” she trailed off.

Jungkook turned his head to look at her. She looked sad. Confused. Her eyes were brighter than they should be.

“You look really tired,” he said, “You don’t have to be here.”

“I’ve walked myself over, and I’m really glad I did,” she said. “If you don’t want him in here anymore, you have to tell someone.”

Jungkook looked back at the ceiling.

“Oh. So, you… you feel like you can’t?”

Jungkook kept staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll bring Doctor Lee in here tomorrow. We were going to have another blunt trauma lesson, but I’m sure he’s okay coming to see you for a bit.”

“No,” Jungkook said, “I don’t want anyone to…”

“They won’t! Jimin won’t know. I promise. We’ll just get Dr. Lee to have some papers signed saying that guy can never come in here again. Easy as anything.”

Jungkook didn’t deny her. Everything was starting to feel strangely numb again. Like it had before the surgery.

“Let’s keep up on your story, then. What was it—oh yeah! Jimin said you totally have a crush on IU. I’m pretty sure your fictional alter-ego does, too, and wow, look at that! Due to your status, you’re going to be at the same award show! I wonder what could happen!”

He watched her, as she talked. He’d thought earlier she was pretty, but looking at her, he wasn’t sure many people would. At least, not now. With her eyes bright and an unhealthy flush settling over her sunken cheeks. Her hair, thin with split ends, tied into two messy pigtails. Her shoulders hunched over inside her sweater, and her hands trembling in her lap.

But her face was alight with the story she told, and behind her eyes was the sharp mind of a girl who knew how to get what she wanted. Who, even as she’d been dying for all of her teenage years, still found ways to be bright. To be happy. To keep living, even inside a cage like this.

Who made the cage her home.

“You’re dying,” Jungkook said, interrupting a dramatic dinner scene between her fictional Jungkook, IU, and another random dude.

“You know that’s right.”

“What do you think it will be like?”

He wouldn’t have blamed her if she wouldn’t answer, but it didn’t surprise him that she did.

“You really want to talk about dying?” she asked.

He nodded.

“You’re not dying, you know that, right?”

“I know,” he said, and she believed him.

“Well, umm, it’s something that happens to everyone,” she said. “I was freaked out at first. You know. Especially after my heart did stop, and I woke up knowing it could, at any time without warning, stop again. That there was nothing they could do to help me.

“But I guess I figured there were two ways to go: either I could give up and give in, or I could fight for every moment I had left. Enjoy every minute of it.”

“But you’re stuck here,” Jungkook said.

She shrugged. “So what? Lots of healthy grown-up people are stuck, too. In cubicles in offices, barely any time to eat or sleep, hating their life from the minute they wake up until the minute they go to bed. I decided I’d find friends, even if I couldn’t keep them. I’d learn things, even if I couldn’t go to school. And sure, I’ll never have a boyfriend, but I could make up the best romantic stories and tell them to my mom. It’s thanks to Mom that I’m so good at it. You do think I’m good at it, right?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah. You’re real good at it.”

“Okay, then, if you’ve had enough about death, I’ll give you two options: Either we dive back into your anatomy studies, this time discussing how the neural pathways connect with the brain stem, or we can find out if IU chooses you over this other weirdo in the restaurant.”

“It’s almost time to knock me out, so let’s finish the chapter,” Jungkook said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got to see a bit more of Mikyeong in this chapter. I enjoy writing her as a character--what do you think about her? 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted Friday, September 18th, and after that, official update days will change to Saturdays due to school starting. Chapter 7 heavily features Namjoon, and on that note, I'd like to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the real Namjoon. I'm so grateful for everything BTS has done, and literally, could there be a better man to lead them than Kim Namjoon? I don't think so. I wish him all the best as he turns 26 (international age).


	19. Just One Day: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a glimpse into Namjoon's life and secrets: past, present, and future.

FEBRUARY, YEAR 22

“He doesn’t even know you! There’s no need to stay here any more!”

“But, father,” Namjoon’s mother said, “I can’t leave. I can’t. I love him and”—

“You aren’t a child anymore, Eunha,” said Namjoon’s grandfather. “What will it be, love for your children, or love for your braindead husband? Namjoon already quit school to support him. Are you going to force Yuna to drop out next? You want to see her shivering out by the gas pumps every day? Catch her death of cold? I’m surprised Namjoon didn’t get pneumonia, what with that cough he had for all of January.”

Yuna and Namjoon were huddled together on the other side of the door.

“I can do both,” Yuna whispered to her brother, “I can work part time, and stay in school. They’ll see.”

Namjoon knew that wasn’t true. Yuna was barely sixteen, and jobs in this backwater town weren’t easy to come by. He rode the bus forty minutes to get to his part-time job, and even there, he was lucky to get thirty hours in a week.

His grandfather spoke again. “There, Eunha, don’t cry. I know it’s hard. But what can we do? Think of it. We have plenty of space at our house for you and the kids. Namjoon can find a better job. There are good schools for the girls, and you know Kyeongeun would love the garden and the chickens.”

They could hear their mother, now. The soft sobs escaping her. Yuna leaned further against Namjoon’s shoulder, and he held her more tightly.

“It’s not like you’re abandoning him,” Grandfather continued. “His family is taking care of him. They always have. But they won’t take care of you. We’re all you have now, sweetie, and it’s useless for you to stay here longer. Please come home.”

His mother didn’t respond. Kyeongeun sat in up on her mat on the other side of the room. She spotted Namjoon and Yuna, and quietly padded across the floor to join them.

“What’s going on?” the first-grader whispered, kneeling in front of her older siblings.

“Nothing,” Namjoon said, “You should go back to sleep.”

“Are we leaving Daddy? Grandpa said we were leaving, but I don’t want to.”

“Come here,” Namjoon said, and to his surprise, Kyeongeun crawled up his lap like she hadn’t since she was much younger.

“I don’t want to go,” Kyeungeun said again, her voice wobbly.

“We’re not going,” Yuna said, trying to hide the emotion in her own words.

A voice came from outside the room again, and the three of them strained to listen.

“The flowers,” Mother said.

“What, Eunha?” asked Grandpa.

“Every day, I bring him flowers,” Mother said, “And every day, I know he sees them.”

“He doesn’t know you, Eunha. His family can bring him flowers.” 

“I am his family,” Mother said, firmly. “I am very grateful for all his parents have done. But I am his wife, and I will live under a bridge before I will leave my husband to die alone.”

Grandpa sighed. “Our doors are always opened, Eunha. You just have to come.”

“When I no longer have reason to stay, I will,” she said.

##

JUNE, YEAR 22

Namjoon sat in the waiting room of the funeral home. His father’s family had paid for the suit he wore. They’d paid for his train ticket from Seoul, and had even given him a return one. He assumed that had been a clerical error from whoever organized the funeral. 

He was not going back to Seoul.

It was over.

As soon as they’d walked into the funeral home, Kyeongeun had started screaming that she wanted a vanilla candy, not a chocolate one. Everyone knew it wasn’t really about the candy, but his father’s family had seemed annoyed, so Grandma had taken the girl to the park until it was time for the funeral to actually begin.

Yuna was sitting across from him. She’d grown up in the past four months. She’d taken his job in town and managed to stay in school, as well. Her grades had dropped enough that she likely wouldn’t get any scholarships, but at least she’d graduate. Her face was harder than it had been, but the spark in her eye remained.

She regretted nothing of what she’d done.

Neither did Namjoon.

Between their two paychecks, Mother had been able to stay with Father until the very end.

##

Namjoon had made his deal with the devil.

Was this the answer to it? 

He did not think it was the reason his father had died. No, his father had been dying for years. But now—

Taehyung was safe. Seokjin would take care of him. And with Taehyung living in Seokjin’s apartment, Seokjin couldn’t run away again so easily. Seokjin seemed older now, too. More responsible. Trustworthy.

Unlike Namjoon.

He couldn’t answer Tae’s calls. Couldn’t even think of telling him that now—

Now?

Last night, Grandpa had told him he was welcome to come home with them. All of them. To be a family again. Mother, Namjoon, Yuna, Kyeongeun. Start a new life in the countryside. Quiet. Peaceful.

The other option: Go back to Seoul. Wonder what the Devil had twisted his blessing into. Die before he hurt his friends.

If he left his friends, there would be no need for him to die, would there?

He wouldn’t hurt them if he wasn’t with them.

Maybe the knowledge he was promised was of living in a normal family. Of learning how to work a farm. The peace that came from a normal living. No more delving into the supernatural underworld that probably didn’t exist.

Disappearing would be better.

Taehyung didn’t need him.

He shivered and hugged his arms around himself.

##

Taehyung got off the bus in a different world.

He’d never left Seoul before. Well, he’d been to the coast, but that was the coast. You expected it to be empty, especially on a chilly day in May.

This was a town.

There were no skyscrapers. No metro. There was a city bus station near the intercity stop. The sign told him buses only ran ever half hour—and the last bus ran at 9 pm.

If Namjoon was here, it was impossible that Taehyung wouldn’t find him. He walked toward the center of town.

##

As they buried his father, Namjoon had the strange feeling that he was the one in the coffin.

He stood next to his mother, but he didn’t feel like he was next to her. She and Yuna leaned on each other, both of them with a hand on one of Kyeongeun’s shoulders. The little girl looked blankly forward, holding a teddy bear. Namjoon remembered when his father had given that bear to him. Before he’d left for Seoul, he’d given it to Kyeongeun.

His grandparents stood on the other side of his mother. He knew they had meant the best when they tried to get his family to move away months ago. But the Kim family stood strong. They’d made it on their own.

There had never been any hope for his father, not from the moment the doctors had found a tumor in his brain. The battle was in being with him. In not leaving him. In loving him until death finally came.

Throughout the rest of the crowd were his father’s business associates, friends, and family. His father’s parents were wealthy, and had never approved of him marrying a farm girl from Daegu province. Namjoon still saw it as unusually cruel that they refused to help his mother throughout his father’s sickness. After today, he doubted he’d see a single one of them again.

His gaze caught on the eyes of a middle-aged man on the other side of the gravesite. Though he was standing in the midst of distant family members, the man didn’t seem to belong to anyone.

Kind of like Namjoon.

He loved his family. He did. He knew he was connected to them, even though he’d been in Seoul for the last few months.

But his soul felt distant. His mind felt foggy.

Like he’d dug the grave and stepped inside and was simply waiting to be—

There was a rustling behind him. A few disapproving murmurs.

Someone bumped his arm.

He looked over and saw a familiar black hoodie.

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his casual clothes standing out amidst the suits and dresses.

Namjoon felt the sun peeking from the clouds, even though rain continued to pour.

##

Taehyung stayed by Namjoon’s side for the rest of the day. Namjoon would have considered that he was imagining it, but his family acknowledged Taehyung’s presence, and, in fact, seemed glad Taehyung was there.

“Taehyung!” his mother said, “Namjoon didn’t tell us you were coming.”

“Namjoon didn’t know,” Taehyung said, “But turns out I’m a pretty good detective.”

“I’m so glad you two were able to reconnect in Seoul. And you should come visit us sometime, now that we’re moving to the country.”

Taehyung glanced at Namjoon. “I definitely will,” he said.

During the memorial dinner—a lavish affair provided by Namjoon’s father’s family—Namjoon, Yuna, and Taehyung ended up standing by themselves in a corner. Everyone else seemed to have family and friends to talk to. His grandparents and mother and Kyeongeun were together, talking to that middle-aged man who didn’t seem to belong.

“Do you know who that is?” Namjoon said, pointing at the man.

“Not really,” Yuna said. “I’ve seen him before, around the care center. I don’t know why he’s here, though.”

“So, like,” Taehyung said, “Why’s everyone ignoring you guys?”

“You aren’t,” Yuna said.

“Thank you, Miss Obvious. Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

“My father’s parents paid for him to come here,” Namjoon said, “But they never approved of the marriage. We aren’t close.”

“Which is why you’re living in a storage container, so your mom could afford to stay here with your dad?” Taehyung said.

Namjoon glanced at Yuna, his heart beating a little faster.

“What? You think I didn’t know?” she said. “I mean, I had thought maybe you’d moved in with Taehyung’s family, or one of those other weird kids you used to hang out with, but storage container checks out, too.”

“I’m perfectly capable of providing for myself,” Namjoon said.

“I know,” Yuna said. “But there’s no way you could send us close to a thousand bucks a month and still afford to rent anything.”

“What other choice did I have?”

“I’m not attacking you,” Yuna said, staring out at the crowd. “You paid our rent and most of the food. My paycheck was just spare change compared to that.”

They stood still for a few minutes. Lots of people were crying. The three of them were not. It was a little hard, still, for Namjoon to think that his father was actually dead. It was much easier to think about the injustice of his father’s extended family. To think about how strong his mother was, to stay with their father through the whole four-year decline of his health, with hardly any financial or emotional support.

“Let’s ditch this place,” Yuna said, “No one wants us here, anyways.”

Taehyung smiled. “I guess you have changed a little.”

“Everyone grows up sometimes,” she snapped, turning on her heel and walking out a side door. Taehyung and Namjoon followed her.

##

Taehyung and the older Kim siblings had returned to the apartment. Mrs. Kim had texted to say that she and Kyeongeun were staying in her parent’s hotel tonight. She just didn’t think she could make it back to the house.

Yuna had found a bottle of soju and poured herself some. Namjoon was sitting on the bed, staring blankly ahead, not acknowledging that his high school sophomore sister was drinking alcohol.

Taehyung walked casually to the table, took the bottle, and poured it down the sink while Yuna glared at him.

“You really have changed, little sister,” Taehyung said, snarkily. “Drinking doesn’t help.”

“Why the frick are you here?” she asked. “It’s none of your business what I do with my life. You don’t know anything.”

Taehyung resisted the urge to fight with her. He sat on the edge of the bed. Namjoon was still just staring. Yuna slowly downed the rest of her glass and laid down on one of the futon mats on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“So, like,” Taehyung said, “You guys going to cry or anything? I mean. Your dad just died. Don’t let my handsome presence disturb you at all.” Maybe that was insensitive. “Or, like, I could go. If you want some time alone.”

No one spoke for a few minutes, and Taehyung was about to take his initiative and get the hell out of there, but Yuna spoke.

“It doesn’t feel like he died on Monday,” she said. “It feels like he died months ago.”

“Really?” Namjoon asked, “You aren’t just saying that?”

“I mean, I’m glad mom stayed and all,” Yuna said, “I have no regrets. But that’s because I love her. Dad didn’t hardly know we were here. I saw him every weekend. He’d open his eyes, sometimes. But he didn’t know me. Don’t you feel that way, Joon?”

“I thought it was just because I ran away,” Namjoon said.

Yuna turned her head to look at him. “You didn’t run away. You went to make money so”—

“That’s not true,” Namjoon said. “I did run away. I couldn't see him like that. Not anymore.”

“But”—

“You know I’m not that noble. Sure, I helped mom. Sure, I lived in poverty to do it. But it was selfish, too.”

Yuna was still wearing her black rented dress. She reached her palm toward the ceiling and stared at the back of her hand. “Why do you think I worked so much? And now, well. All I can see is him not knowing me, and I hate it. I just want to be back. I just want to be a kid again and none of this ever happened.” Despite the anger of her words, her voice just sounded empty.

“I remember him,” Taehyung said. “I mean, I only met him a few times. But, well, remember that one time, when we all went to the zoo? We made it a game, whoever got to push his wheelchair. And when your mom went to get Kyeongeun a popsicle, oh, remember? He said we should race to the puma exhibit. I pushed his chair, then, and Namjoon carried Yuna piggyback, so it would be equal. And I almost crashed into a garbage can. Remember how much we laughed? And then your mom found us and nearly had a fit, but after your dad told her the whole dramatic story, she was nearly crying with laughter as well? Oh, sorry. Umm.” Yuna had curled in on herself, and a sob came from her direction. “If you want me to shut up, I will.”

“Keep talking, idiot,” Yuna said, her voice full of tears.

“Okay. But stop me anytime. We went and got lunch and ate it out on the lawn. And we played that word game. I won by a landslide with”—

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Yuna said, “We all knew who really… really…” Her voice caught.

“Oh, okay. You won, I guess, but I still would like to see an instant replay. And then, your dad…”

Tae continued for almost an hour. He told pretty much every memory he had of Mr. Kim, adding drama but focusing on every tiny fact he could remember about the man who had been buried this afternoon.

“And, well, I guess that’s all I’ve got,” Taehyung said.

Namjoon and Yuna remained quiet.

Taehyung had said all he could think of. As he listened to the sound of the silence, thoughts started swirling in his own head. Usually, he didn’t come over the Namjoon’s house until after dinner, and they’d spend time either on the roof, or sneaking out to throw some artwork up in a back alley. But Mr. Kim had always been kind. Said hello to Taehyung. Smiled at him. And, on at least a dozen occasions, had invited Taehyung to go with on family outings, though Tae had only gone four times. All the while, Mr. Kim was literally dying, little by little every day.

Taehyung’s father was in perfect health. Taehyung’s father once had had a decent job. True, his mother had died, but, well, lots of people died and the remaining parent didn’t become a monster to their children. 

Mr. Kim was much more a father figure than Taehyung’s father had been. And he’d hung out with the guy four times in his life.

All of this fell on Taehyung like a cloud, and he suddenly realized how exhausted he was. Seokjin had driven him to the bus station at five this morning. He’d need to buy a return ticket tomorrow. Text Seokjin to come pick him up.

Say goodbye to Namjoon.

Which, well, made perfect sense. Namjoon had no reason to be in Seoul anymore. He had a family, a great family. Sure, Yuna was a little annoying, but that was a given with sisters. They still loved each other. Namjoon, his mom, his sisters, their grandparents. Not a cobbled-together group of outcasts with hardly any money between them. It was ridiculous, thinking Namjoon might want to stay with them, when he had a real family in the countryside, with security and safety and, if Taehyung’s memory served him, really good homecooked meals.

He took a deep breath. No reason for him to feel all emotional now. Tomorrow was a long time from now. Shouldn’t let the future ruin the right now.

He crawled over and laid down on the bed next to Namjoon. There wasn’t a lot of room, but he figured if this was the last time he’d see Namjoon for a while it didn’t matter.

Was it only two months ago that Seokjin had brought them all together again? It felt like no time at all had passed. Like the years between had been just a sort of nightmare, where Taehyung was alone, where there was nothing but the building anger and fear in his veins, the Voice in his head…

He leaned his forehead against Namjoon’s back. This wasn’t the time to think about that. 

Not the past. 

Not the future.

Not any other Time that might have been.

Just now. One last night with his best friend before everything changed again.

##

“Yuna,” Namjoon whispered.

His sister groaned.

“Yuna, I need to talk to you.”

Slowly, like a cat, she sat up and stretched. Looked at Namjoon, where he sat next to a sleeping Taehyung. Taehyung, who looked far too young and innocent for someone who’d just nearly pushed Namjoon off the bed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Yuna said.

“But I”—

“I know you’re going back to Seoul.”

A lump formed in Namjoon’s throat, and he couldn’t respond.

“You don’t have to worry about us,” she said, “We’ll be okay. But I am a little worried about you. I mean. Living in a storage container? I tried to save face, but, well, isn’t it dangerous? Uncomfortable?”

Namjoon coughed. “It’s not so bad. And after a month or two, I’ll have some savings, and maybe I’ll be able to rent a room somewhere.”

Yuna nodded. “Sounds legit. I mean, we probably shouldn’t tell mom. Let her assume you’re living with Taehyung’s family, like I did. But I’m…” A change fell over her face. “Oh, damn. He’s the one with the alcoholic father, right?”

“Yup.”

“He’s been living with you then, hasn’t he?”

“Until a couple weeks ago. Moved in with another one of our friends.”

“He doesn’t have a home, does he?”

“His dad nearly killed him last month.”

Yuna said a word Namjoon hadn’t thought she knew. But, well, she had taken his job at the gas station. Kid had probably grown up real fast.

“I’ll still miss you,” she said. “You’ll have to come by.”

“I will.”

“And bring Taehyung. I always thought he was a scrawny weirdo when we were kids, but now he’s kinda hot.”

Namjoon had to stop himself from laughing.

“No. I’m serious. He’s still got that bad boy smirk thing going on, but he’s not faking it now. There’s something real in there.” She tilted her head. “Not sure what. But I think I kinda like it. Think I could get to know him, if I had the chance.”

“Hey, you aren’t thinking of moving to Seoul, are you?”

“Umm, no. I intend to enjoy the rest of high school in peace and quiet. Maybe I’ll get a job at a library or something. I nearly punched a guy in the teeth the other day, he was so disrespectful to me. I know I’m just a kid. Doesn’t mean I’m dirt.”

“You should be a kid,” Namjoon said, “Nothing better, really. Than being a kid.”

He thought she’d deny it, but she just smiled, sadly. “You’re right. I’m not sure I can go back.”

“Just try a little, okay?”

“If you do, too.”

“Deal.”

Yuna nodded and stood, walking into the bathroom to change out of her dress.

Namjoon glanced down at Taehyung. Gently brushed the hair off of his forehead to see his face. He looked so quiet, so peaceful while he was sleeping. All the bravado disappearing into the kid he might have been, had the fates been kinder.

Had Taehyung not made a deal with the devil.

Namjoon couldn’t blame him for that. He’d done the exact same thing. He just wondered what Tae had traded, and what he’d received.

Yuna rearranged herself on the futon. Namjoon shoved Taehyung to the other side of the bed and laid down again. Listening to the breathing of his younger sister by birth and his younger brother by choice, he slowly let sleep take him.

##

Namjoon stared out the train window at the passing countryside. In two hours, he’d be back in Seoul, and… well. He had no idea what was going to happen.

All he knew was that this was right.

His mother had respected his choice. He didn’t think she quite understood, but she respected it. Kyeongeun had cried, but he’d promised her he’d come to visit soon.

“Kim Namjoon, may I join you?”

Namjoon looked up, startled.

The middle-aged man who seemed not to fit from the funeral was standing the the aisle, gesturing at the seat across from Namjoon.

“Yes, of course,” Namjoon said, bowing slightly. “But I’m afraid to say I don’t know who you are, even though you seem to know me.”

The man smiled. “Let’s just leave that a mystery for now, shall we?”

Namjoon nodded.

“I never spoke to your father,” the man said, staring out the window. “But I feel as if I knew him very well. He was a good man.”

“He was,” Namjoon said.

“I heard that you are returning to Seoul, instead of staying with your family.”

“Yes,” Namjoon said. He wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“The city is a magnet for young people these days,” he said. “A little too big for my tastes. But my son, he loved it. Said being accepted to Yonsei was the greatest thing that ever happened to him. It’s where I graduated, as well, but the world was a different place back then.”

Namjoon nodded, but said nothing. Prestigious colleges had nothing to do with him.

“Very expensive, though. The city, that is. What neighborhood are you living in?”

This was too much. The man was still gazing casually out the window. “What does it matter to you?” Namjoon asked.

“Don’t be concerned,” he said, “Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I’ve made my own home,” Namjoon said, “Rent-free. No air conditioning, but it keeps the rain out, mostly.”

A smirk passed over the man’s face. “I assumed as much. And your friend? That kid in the hoodie? I expected he would be here with you.”

“He only had money for the bus,” Namjoon said, “And I only had a train ticket in my name. I’ll be in Seoul a few hours ahead of him.”

“Does he have family?”

“Not any worth mentioning.”

“You’re the only one who watches out for him?”

Namjoon laughed. “No. Not the only one. Watching that kid is too big a job for any one man.”

“You have more friends, then?”

“Yes. A handful of us. We’ve known each other since school. Well, Tae’s still in school, and Jungkook should be, but he was in a nasty accident a few weeks back, not sure if he’ll…” Namjoon trailed off. “Why am I telling you this?”

“I don’t know,” the man said, “But I find it very interesting. Your family’s story, and how it links in with you.”

A cold prickle went up the back of Namjoon’s neck.

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said, “I have no interest in hurting you. But please, tell me a little more.”

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself, yet.”

“Everything comes in time. A few more minutes, and I think you’ll be able to hear me.”

The cold feeling was still there, but there was over an hour left until they reached Seoul, and this man was going to be sitting here.

In fifteen minutes, Namjoon summed up the past two months. The only thing he left out was his deal with the devil. Starting with the moment he didn’t like to think about (which only Seokjin knew of), through the events where Taehyung was removed from his home, to the near-death at the seaside, and Jungkook’s accident, all the way to getting the letter telling him his father had died.

“And then I just vanished. Didn’t tell Taehyung or anyone, but he still found me, little punk. Glad he did, though. I need to go back to Seoul. There’s just something there that I don’t think I’ve finished yet, and if I need to live in a container until I finish, well… I have to.”

The man nodded. “That brings us to the present. I will admit, your story was even more eventful than I anticipated.”

“Why’d you want to hear it?”

“Because I have an offer for you, and I wanted to make sure you deserved it.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I don’t need anything from you. I can make it on my own.”

“It’s not charity,” said the man, “Simply an exchange.”

An exchange?

He’d already made a deal with the devil. He could at least listen to what this guy had to say.

“My son attended Yonsei for a year and a half,” the man said, “And then he was diagnosed with brain cancer.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“It was terrible. I won’t lie. Moved a lot faster than your father’s did, and I’m not sure if that was a blessing or a curse. He ended up at the same care facility.”

“It’s a good one,” Namjoon said.

“I know that now. I didn’t while he was there, because I could not bring myself to visit him. Horrible, isn’t it? I’m his father, but I couldn’t stand to see him suffer for just a few short months. Whereas your mother, such a brave woman, fought and suffered to spend every last moment with her husband.”

There was a lump in Namjoon’s throat. “I think I relate to what you did,” he said, “It wasn’t just for my mother that I went to Seoul.”

“I have an offer for us to make amends on this. I doubt the guilt can be entirely erased, but I want to try and make things right.”

“How?”

“By sending you to college.” 

Namjoon actually choked. “Umm, excuse me? First off, that might make you feel better, but I don’t take”—

“I will give you money, and you will give up some independence, and we will both benefit.”

Maybe that was true. “I never graduated,” Namjoon said.

“I know. But your mother and high school grades have shown me you are brilliant. There is a summer program you can take, beginning next week, and I have no doubts you’ll pass with flying colors.”

“Yonsei would never accept me.”

“You don’t speak for the university,” the man said. “They owe me.”

“And I don’t want to,” Namjoon said, “I can’t take a college education from”—

“You will owe me nothing,” the man said. “I am not doing this for you. I’m doing it for my son. For your father. He was the father my boy needed when I refused to be one. I now wish to be the same for you. Your father couldn’t give you an education. I can.”

“What about Yuna? She deserves it more. She”—

“We can talk about Yuna later. Right now, we are talking about you.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s… it’s crazy. I don’t think it will work.” 

“Maybe it won’t,” the man said. “But just maybe it will. You just have to step out and see what happens.”

Namjoon stared at the passing countryside.

“If it works, think of how much more of a help you’ll be to your friends. To Taehyung. If he sees you prospering at Yonsei, it may encourage him to put effort into his own learning.”

A few moments passed.

“You don’t have to accept,” said the man, “It is your choice.” 

His choice.

“It would please me greatly,” the man continued, “But I suppose, after leaving my son to face his illness without me, I don’t deserve a chance to make it right.”

Namjoon still didn’t say anything. This time, the man made no more comments. They simply sat and stared out the window until the train pulled into the station.

The man stood and started down the aisle.

“I’ll do it,” Namjoon called after him.

He turned, and smiled. “Thank you, Kim Namjoon. I know you’ll make your father proud. I’ll be in touch.”

##

Taehyung was asleep in Namjoon’s bed.

Namjoon sat at his desk, glancing over his books in the flickering light.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” said the Voice.

Namjoon shivered.

“I always keep my promises. You will learn. You won’t be stuck in poverty.”

Namjoon laid his head on the book. A warmth came from its pages.

“The clock is ticking,” It said, “Make the most of what you have. They Are Coming.”

As the voice faded to sweet nothing, Namjoon considered his death.

It wasn’t part of his deal. It was just something that would happen. Set in time. He hadn’t thought, or wanted, to bargain for the length of his life. Only for the ability to be more. To help more. To get Taehyung away from danger.

Namjoon believed his death would be fast. No long, drawn-out months of illness taking him. Probably an accident. Like Jungkook. Walking down the street and BAM. 

But unlike Jungkook, he wouldn’t wake up.

What was it, to die?

Humans throughout time often personified Death. Sometimes, as something awful. Sometimes, as something scary but simply unknown. Either the afterlife was pain, or the afterlife was bliss, or there was no afterlife, but simply being reborn again and again into this same world until one reached perfect peace.

In all his reading, he had no idea which was right. All seemed a bit fantastical. His logical mind wanted to think there was nothing after death. Just the end. Buried in the ground, to be eventually forgotten.

Only… that couldn’t be it.

He sat up and flipped through his book.

The book that had suggested a soul was more than just a life. The book that told him a soul was forever, and that a soul could be traded. A book that had shown him the method to make such a trade.

And the Voice…

The fear…

He landed on a page about three-quarters through. He’d read the volume cover to cover at least a dozen times, and the ink of many different pens stained the pages. Some of the ink had been written long before he found the book, in a flowing handwriting, intermingling Japanese, English, and Korean, making it nearly impossible to decipher. He still had much to go in his interpretation of it.

That was all a side thought. This page, in particular, fascinated him. It was one of only six illustrations throughout the book.

This image was of a star. Stars were common as symbols, but not in all his research had he found one drawn like this. It had five points, and the drawing made it look almost like it was coming out of the page. Despite the sepia ink, he’d more than once thought he could see it glittering, or even moving, slowly in a circle.

He touched the page.

Looked at the handwritten note in the handwriting below it.

Though written in the same hand as many of the cryptic notes, it wasn’t in any of those primary languages, and, stranger than that, every word was the same language:

_Ce n’est pas une étoile._

Each drawing was unique, but tonight, this one spoke to him.

Almost literally.

As he stared at it, he felt that maybe, just maybe…

_Do not be afraid._

This Voice in his head was not scary. It held no malice beneath Its words.

_You need not fear the dark._

It was old. Tired. But still there. And, more than that, it felt true.

_You need not fear, for They Are Coming._

Though the words were the same as the earlier Voice had said, they meant something else entirely.

He didn’t know what.

He laid down on the book, still opened to this picture, and closed his eyes.

_Sleep now, and remember._

Namjoon could not remember. 

But he could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I had the Taehyung/Seokjin/Namjoon scenes interspersed with the Jungkook/Mikyeong/Jimin/Hoseok scenes, but it seemed weird and disjointed, so I split the chapters by storyline instead of by time the events occurred. We'll return to the other side of the story next week.
> 
> Speaking of, I start college this coming week, so my chapter updates will be on Saturdays until further notice. Thank you for reading, and look forward to _Just One Day_ : Chapter 8, coming on September 26th, 2020.
> 
> Please comment any thoughts or opinions you have!! Comments make me super happy <3


	20. Just One Day: Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. What a week. I started college, and I had no idea how time-consuming it would be XD It's good that I have... 28?? I think?? more chapters pre-written for this, because I'm going to have *very* limited writing time until break. Maybe I'll get into a better rhythm as time goes on... but week one was INTENSE. I love it, though. 
> 
> That's enough about my life. Let's get on to Jungkook and Mikyeong.

JULY, YEAR 22

“You ready?” asked the physical therapist.

Jungkook nodded.

He wasn’t ready, but he never would be. 

Nearly every day, his physical therapist came to his room to work his muscles through exercises. He’d never thought about his muscles before. He never worked out or anything. His legs had just been, well, _there_. Useful. Strong enough to walk him wherever he needed to go.

The pain in his back remained, but became more and more muted with time. Five weeks of not walking, however, and his muscles had faded away to almost nothing. He had no idea how he was supposed to actually walk today.

Jimin and Mikyeong were here. He’d considered shutting them out, in case he completely failed and fell on his face or something else embarrassing. But then he remembered that they’d seen him through the pain of his first attempts at standing. This couldn’t be any worse than that, and maybe, it would even be better.

“Okay. Now…”

His therapist went through what was going to happen.

What he was going to do.

And he did it.

He _walked_.

All the way across the room to where Jimin and Mikyeong were sitting, the anxious looks on their faces changed to huge grins.

He sat down between them.

“Look at that,” Mikyeong said. “Keep this up, and you’ll be dancing before you know it.”

Jungkook smiled.

##

Two weeks later, Mikyeong convinced him to go on a stroll through the hospital gardens with her. He couldn’t walk more than fifty feet without a break, but, as Mikyeong had claimed, there were benches all over the place, so he'd never had to.

“Have you ever thought of writing words to your music?” she asked, as they sat on a bench between some rosebushes.

“I don’t have music,” Jungkook said, “I just play stuff I know.”

“Come on. I’ve listened to a lot of music, and I’ve never heard a few of the songs you play.”

“You only listen to boy groups.”

“Girl groups, too.”

“See. Limited taste. All about the modern era, without giving any attention to what came before.”

She looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Jungkook blushed, because it wasn’t like him, and he hadn’t really meant to say it.

“Come on. You made up those tunes, I know you did.”

“I guess I have, a little,” he said, “Just because I can’t remember how to play them right. I have to improvise. The original version is far better.”

“Who wrote the original, then?”

“Just someone I used to know.” He wanted her to let it go at that, but should have known that she wouldn’t.

“Was it your friend Yoongi?”

He started. “How? What? Do you know him, too?”

She shook her head and smiled. “No. But when you’re all loopy, after you’ve had the intravenous pain meds, you talk about him sometimes.”

“Oh.” Jungkook looked at the paved path.

“About how much you miss him,” Mikyeong continued, “How, if you die, you want Jimin to make sure he knows you don’t blame him for anything.”

Jungkook kept looking at the path.

“Tell me about him.”

“I don’t want to,” Jungkook said.

“Why not?”

“Because, well, he hasn’t come to see me. I can understand, when I was hurt so bad, and they didn’t know if I’d ever be able to walk again. I can’t believe Jimin stayed with me through all that. It had to be terrible. But now… I’m getting better. It doesn’t hurt so much. And he’s still not here. I mean, we were best friends. Why won’t he even come let me know he’s okay?” As he said the words, the anger rose up in him. It really wasn’t fair. For Yoongi to just disappear like that.

“You’re worried that he’s not okay?” Mikyeong asked.

“Fricking idiot tried to kill himself on May 2nd. Of course I’m worried he’s not okay.”

Mikyeong didn’t respond right away. Jungkook felt his heart racing in a way he couldn’t hardly remember. He hadn’t let himself think about Yoongi in a long while. He’d asked, of course he’d asked, but Jimin had kind of bounced around the subject. He said Yoongi had stopped by once. That he was busy with work. That it was really hard for him.

Taehyung had told him the truth: Yoongi was so freaked out at the thought of Jungkook’s injuries that he couldn’t face him.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. If their situations were reversed, Jungkook knew he wouldn’t have left Yoongi’s side. And he’d proved it, too. Staying with him while he recovered from his burns. Heck, even running into that building—

Yoongi was his brother.

That’s what he’d thought.

Now, not only had his blood-family abandoned him, but the person who he thought liked him best had left him as well.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Mikyeong asked.

Jungkook didn’t refuse.

He slowly stood and followed her to the next bench.

“How’d you meet him?” Mikyeong said.

“Who?” Jungkook asked, hoping his tone would tell her he didn’t want to answer.

“Yoongi.”

“Detention. I was in eighth grade. He was in eleventh. Probably never would have met without that.”

“I never got the chance to be in detention,” Mikyeong said, “What was it like? Were you a bad kid in school?”

Jungkook shook his head and smiled. “Nah. I followed the rules, mostly. But sometimes… umm… I got a little lost. I’d be sitting and class and feel like it was all such a waste of my life, and so I’d wander off. I’d usually go sit on the roof. Usually they wouldn’t catch me, but this time, they did.”

“What was that like? The teachers catching you?”

Jungkook thought back. “It was pretty scary. Teachers are all pretty scary, but when Mr. Choi found me up there, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me so hard I got a headache. He said all these things about how I was wasting my life, and I said he seemed to be the one wasting his life. So, detention it was.

“Anyways, weren’t we going to review the bones in the human foot today?” Jungkook said, sure she was bored.

“I’d rather listen to you talk for a while,” she said.

“What about? I’m sure I could find something more interesting than my boring days in school.”

“Boring is nice, sometimes,” she said. “Let’s move to the next bench. I want to hear about detention.”

They walked. His knees were about to give out by the time they reached the next bench, but he knew why she’d chosen it. There was a little fountain, with the water coming out the mouth of a stone frog. There were several more stone frogs around the fountain, all of them with cute expressions on their faces.

“Now, tell me,” she said.

He told her. About how his middle school was right next to the high school, and that’s where his detention was. All the other boys were older than him, except for one, and his fellow eighth grader looked to be the sort of kid who enjoyed being in detention.

“Was that Taehyung?” she interrupted.

“Yeah.”

“He’s funny,” she said, “I’m always happy when he comes to see you.”

Jungkook continued his story. Their task was to clean out an old storage room in the basement. It had been a place where supplies and equipment had been stored when it no longer served its purpose. They were to come every Saturday, all day, until they had it spotless.

He’d been sifting through a crumbling old file folder when he first heard it.

Music.

A few off-key notes, slowly becoming more and more steady. It came from the other end of the room, so he didn’t investigate. Not until the third Saturday, when the plinking and tuning stopped and a song began.

It was the most incredible song he’d ever heard. The melody seemed to carry him far away from the dank basement to another world. Finally, he gave up carrying bins of old sports equipment up to the trailer that would take it to the dump. He crept amongst the garbage, back to the corner, and he saw it.

One of the eleventh-grade boys, the scary looking one, was sitting on the bench, his hands dancing across the keys of an old Upright. Jungkook crept closer, until he was only a few feet from the piano. He sat cross-legged on one of the old desks pushed into the corner and watched.

The music was one thing. The boy’s face was another. When they'd first met, he'd looked like he’d rather bite Jungkook’s head off than talk to him. Now? His face was now peaceful. Happy. Lost in a different world, the one Jungkook thought he could taste in the music that came from inside the old piano.

That’s how it started.

All of them, slowly, gathering around the music. One at a time. Even after Mr. Choi quit, and no one was there to supervise their detention anymore, they kept coming back every Saturday. Soon, it was evenings, too. 

Music. Games. Messing around. Talking. Taehyung’s stories of vandalism, and his art starting to take up space in the room itself. Trying out all the best fast food joints with only a dollar each in their pockets. A dollar’s worth of food was never enough, but Seokjin always seemed to magically have more that he was willing to share. Namjoon sometimes coming with old books to ask them what they thought about a myth or legend he’d been looking into.

“School sucked,” he said, as the shadows lengthened in the garden. “You didn’t miss out on much there. But the friends were great. They were really great.”

She lifted her head off of his shoulder and looked into his eyes. The flowers that surrounded them had these little blue and purple blossoms. He reached up into the bush and plucked one, then tucked it behind her ear.

She smiled. “These are my favorite flowers,” she said. “Do you know what they’re called?”

“Ummm… blue lilies?”

She laughed so hard the flowers fell from her hair. She grabbed them before they could hit the bench. “No. Oh, no, sweetie. After we finish teaching you about bones, we will have to move to flowers.”

“Let’s start now. What are they?”

“They’re called Forget Me Nots,” she said. “One day, I’ll tell you the story, but I’m a little tired.”

“Dang,” Jungkook said, “We’re a long ways from the hospital, and I’m really tired, too. Should we call someone?”

“I think I heard them already,” she said, and sure enough, around the bend came Jimin and Hoseok, along with Jungkook’s wheelchair.

She leaned on Jimin’s arm, and since Jungkook’s legs felt they could barely stand after this excursion, he was totally fine having Hoseok push him. Mikyeong was still holding the flowers. Jungkook thought the color blue suited her far better than the pale hospital clothes ever could.

They left her in her room, and Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how heavily she was leaning on Jimin as he helped her onto her bed. He also didn’t miss the worried glance that passed between Hoseok and Jimin as they turned to leave.

“Jungkook,” he heard her call, as soon as they were out in the hall. Jimin let him have control of the chair, and he wheeled back to the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know I’m never going to forget the stories you told me today,” she said.

He shrugged, not sure what to say.

“I felt, for just a moment, as if I was a normal kid.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he said, “Thanks for listening. It was good to remember.”

“If Yoongi’s anything like he was in your story,” she said, “I know he’ll be back someday.”

Jungkook pushed down the twinge of pain. Forced himself to be cheerful. “Yeah,” he said.

“And even if for some reason he isn’t… well, I’ll never forget you.”

##

“Are you ready yet?” the nurse asked.

Jungkook shook his head.

He couldn’t go to sleep. Not yet. Not when her words were still ringing in his head. It felt so strange. Her eyes had had this sadness in them he hadn’t seen before. They’d had such a lovely time in the garden. She’d looked so tired. So sweet with those little blue flowers in her hands.

“Well, I don’t have all the time in the world,” the nurse said. “I can give it to you now, or in an hour.”

“I’ll wait,” Jungkook said.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie?”

He nodded and forced a convincing smile.

She left.

He waited five minutes.

Slid out of bed and took a few careful steps to his wheelchair.

Jimin and Hoseok had left to go dance. He’d told them to. He didn’t want to talk to them. For them to see the worry that had crept into his mind.

He knew Mikyeong was dying.

But what if she was dying now?

Tonight?

What if he never saw her again?

He’d gotten really good at opening the door. Slipping out quietly. Mikyeong had shared all her secret methods with him. How to look like you knew where you were going, which names to mention if you got caught.

He was nearly there. In her hall, even. Just another few feet and…

He stopped.

What was he supposed to do? It was ten in the evening. When he’d left her two hours ago, she looked like she was probably going to sleep.

Was it okay to look in on her?

No, that was probably creepy. 

He wanted to know if she was okay.

Of course she was okay.

Her nurse would have checked on her.

But what if she was dead?

If she was dead, would the hall be all empty like this?

He’d about made up his mind to just quietly go up to the door, and crack it open and peek in, just to be sure she looked okay, when her door opened.

A tall, thin woman with sharp features stepped out and quietly closed the door behind her.

Jungkook froze. He thought about running, but there was no point. She’d seen him. In a hall where the only girl beyond the point where he sat was Mikyeong.

Mikyeong, who looked a lot like this woman.

Oh god, it couldn’t be…

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked.

“Umm,” Jungkook said, wheeling back, “I’m sorry, I’m lost, I should just…”

“Wait. You’re… you’re him, aren’t you?” Her voice softened as she said it.

“Who?”

“She won’t say your name around me. Says I don’t need to be in her business all the time. But I’m guessing you’re the kid who, hmm, let’s see, had a rare compact fracture in your lower spine, have three times played a royal flush in poker, you wish you could marry IU, and you’re the reason I had to buy her that piano that she never plays.”

She said it all kindly, so Jungkook smiled.

“You also picked those flowers for her. She had me put them in a cup of water, to try and make them last.” With this, the woman’s voice became a touch more sad. “Can I walk you to your room?”

##

“I don’t want to pry, but she’s my only child. I need to know why you were going to her room at this time of night.”

“I was afraid she was dead,” Jungkook answered. No need to beat around the bush.

“Oh?”

“We had such a good time hanging out today, and she was kinda… I don’t know, a little weird when I left. Told me she’d never forget me. I guess I just couldn’t stop thinking about that.”

Mrs. Cho nodded. “You know she is dying, I assume.”

“Of course,” Jungkook said, “The other day she explained in detail the problem with her heart. I guess I just didn’t want the last thing I said to her to be ‘yeah.’ Or for me to be sitting in my room high on pain meds when she’s dying in hers. I’m sorry. It was kinda weird to go to her room this late. I promise I’m not a stalker.”

“I don’t think you are,” Mrs. Cho said. She sat on the edge of his bed. “I did the same thing, at first. The first two years, actually. I wouldn’t leave her, ever, afraid that I’d never see her again.”

“I haven’t seen you around very much,” Jungkook said, “I thought that was weird. Since you’re her mom. And even if she complains about you I know she thinks you’re pretty great.”

Mrs. Cho smiled sadly. Jungkook was pretty sure she didn’t smile any other way.

“She won’t forget you,” Mrs. Cho said. “She doesn’t forget anyone. And you, especially. You’ve been good for her. Most of her friends these days are doctors. But you're her own age, and she’s very fond of you.”

Jungkook blushed. “I don’t know about that. It’s more the other way around. I think.”

“When will you be well enough to leave?” asked Mrs. Cho.

Jungkook hadn’t thought about this in a while. Ever since he’d met Mikyeong, actually. Then, it had been all about fighting to get out and live again. Fighting to walk out the doors.

Now?

It was fighting to walk because Mikyeong and Jimin believed in him. The rest of them, too. But Mikyeong and Jimin were always here. Always cheering for him or crying for him and reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Not for a second.

“I think the middle of August,” he said, “So, like. Six more weeks? Maybe a little less?”

His nurse opened the door. “Are you ready for your meds now, sweetie?” she asked.

Jungkook looked at Mrs. Cho.

“It’s getting late,” Mrs. Cho said. “I should be getting home.”

Mrs. Cho stood to leave. Jungkook laid back on his pillow while his nurse prepared the medicine.

“When you're well enough to leave,” Mrs. Cho said from the doorway, “Please don’t forget her.”

“I could never forget her,” Jungkook said.

##

Jimin liked his new job.

Sure, his manager was kind of scary. Let Jimin know on a regular basis that he hadn’t wanted to hire someone who hadn’t even graduated high school. Any mistake, and Jimin was out. 

But the rest of his coworkers were pleasant people. No one tried to get too close, but it seemed they respected him. Respected the work that he did.

And that was the best part: the work. Jimin liked it. Talking to the customers. Taking their orders. Bringing out the pasta dishes and breadsticks and salads. Sure, some people were rude and obnoxious, but most seemed to find him adorable. And as much as he tried to deny it, he liked it when people found him adorable.

He was a month into the job when things shifted.

“Park,” his manager shouted as soon as Jimin walked in.

“Yes, sir?” Jimin asked, bowing.

“You’ll be training the new kid today.” Jimin looked at the boy standing next to the manager. “This is Baek Hyunjin. He’s a student at a nearby high school. Expected to graduate with honors, aren’t you, Baek?”

“Yes, sir,” said the new kid.

“I’ll leave you with Park, then. Get to it.”

Jimin smiled at Hyunjin. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“Why didn’t you graduate?” asked Hyunjin. It seemed a little disrespectful, Jimin felt, to ask that right off, before they even knew each other. Especially since the kid was younger than him.

“I was sick for a while,” Jimin said, dismissively. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to finish.”

“What were you sick with?” Hyunjin asked.

Jimin met his eyes. Hyunjin stared back. There was something in that stare that made Jimin shiver. “Umm, it has nothing to do with our work, so I’d rather keep it personal,” Jimin said. “And I should let you know, if you talk this disrespectfully to any of the chefs, you will not like the outcome.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t talk this way to anyone in a station above my own,” Hyunjin said.

His voice had a dull tone that did not match the challenge of the words. 

Jimin just smiled and showed him to the kitchen. The kid was probably just a little stuck-up. Proud of his grades. Jimin could understand that. With time, Jimin was sure he could win him over.

##

Jungkook was doing it.

Writing lyrics.

He was certain they weren’t any good, but he was trying.

Dr. Lee had stopped by the other day and given him a cell phone. Said his daughter had bought a new one. So Jungkook and Mikyeong had recorded the piano that he remembered from Yoongi’s song, and now, they were sitting outside together, and he was writing.

As the minutes turned into an hour, he reread what he’d scribbled down. Complete garbage. Why was it so hard to get the right syllables? To make the beat match? To have the words not sound awkward?

Mikyeong pulled an earbud out of his ear.

He turned to her. “Hmm?”

“Listen,” she said.

He paused the track and listened.

Guitar music. Coming from around the corner. Mrs. Cho had told them that there was a girl who came to play music for sick kids every Friday, but Mikyeong had said she wasn’t a child anymore and didn’t need to hear nursery rhymes from some sub-par musicians.

This tune wasn’t a nursery rhyme.

“What the…?” Jungkook said.

“I know,” Mikyeong said, “It’s been going on for a couple minutes, but I wanted to be sure. Should we go check it out?”

They stood and slowly walked towards the sound. A warm breeze blew through the shaded garden, and Mikyeong lifted her chin and inhaled the sweetness of it. Jungkook smiled despite himself.

“It couldn’t be him, could it?” Mikyeong asked. “Yoongi?”

“No,” Jungkook said. They were coming up to the sound. “He only plays piano.”

“But it’s definitely the same song.”

They rounded the corner of the building.

A bunch of children and teenagers and their parents were sitting in the afternoon shade. Mikyeong had said that there were lots of kids at the hospital. Most of them were what she called short-termers, only in for a couple weeks. There were cancer patients, too. She’d said she wasn’t allowed in the Oncology ward anymore. There was supposedly a great story behind it that she planned to tell him later.

In front of this crowd was a short woman with a guitar. Her hair was dark blue, and she was staring down as she picked through a particularly challenging bit of what could only be Yoongi’s song.

A lighter dangled from the head of the guitar.

Jungkook closed his eyes.

Sure, it could be any lighter. Of everything about her, this pointed towards Yoongi the least.

But he still remembered.

That last night.

In the parking lot.

Watching Yoongi walk away from him.

Walk away from him and never come back.

He opened his eyes.

The girl had lifted her head.

Yes.

She was the girl from the alley.

The one Yoongi had been talking to.

Flirting with.

And here she was, playing Yoongi’s song in front of a bunch of sick kids.

Yoongi had taught her this song, obviously. This song that he said he’d written for Jungkook. The song he said would never stop writing, because the song would go on for as long as Jungkook himself would, and, being his elder, Yoongi was sure he’d die first.

Jungkook turned and ran.

Well, not exactly ran. He stumbled away, quick as he could, hot anger flaring inside him. He didn’t know why. He just knew that he missed Yoongi, he missed him more than anything, they were best friends and then Jungkook got hurt and now Yoongi had dumped him for some girl. He’d taught her that song. The one that never ended.

He went in the first set of door he found and blindly stumbled to a seating area. He stared down at his hands. They were shaking. All of him was shaking.

“Jungkook. Jungkook. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. Felt the couch cushion shift as Mikyeong sat beside him.

“Should I call someone?”

“No,” he said.

“What’s wrong? That girl looked at you, just as you ran away, and it looked like she knew you! We could ask her if she knows”—

“No,” Jungkook said, louder.

“What’s going on?”

He looked up at her. Her eyes were full of concern. Not only that: there was fear behind them.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I’m fine. I just got angry for a second.”

“Why?” she asked.

She always asked why.

“Can’t you ever just let something be?” he snapped. “There’s not always a reason. Okay?” The ache in his back had returned, and he folded over, pressing his face into his hands.

Silence hovered in the air.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me, too.”

“You don’t have to talk to me,” she said. “And if you want me to leave, just say it.”

He didn’t say anything. 

His mind was clearing, and guilt was falling on him again. God. He was such an idiot. So stupid. Why had he expected anything else from Yoongi? And then he’d gone and snapped at the one person who never left him. Her worst trait was being a little nosy, but that was because she was stuck in this hospital for her entire life.

“I guess it makes sense,” he said, “I mean. If Yoongi has a girlfriend, then, well, that means he’s doing better. And I should be happy. And I understand. If you have a girlfriend, and she’s obviously talented with music, and she’s not sick or hurt or anything, why would you ever want to go see your other friends? I mean, it can’t be that fun to sit next to my bed all the time. I can’t believe Jimin puts up with me. Why couldn’t I have thought before I stepped out into the street? Yoongi told me to go home. I should have gone home. None of this would have happened if I’d gone home instead of…”

His voice caught.

He choked back the tears.

This was not a time to cry.

She rested her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re silly,” she said.

That definitely pushed the tears away. He looked up at her. She smiled at the confusion on his face.

“In the space of five minutes you made up that ridiculous story and convinced yourself it’s true.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no idea if this girl is dating your friend. You have no idea if Yoongi’s avoiding you because he thinks being with you is boring. I mean, if you were really that close, it’s a jerk move to not even come say hi, but I feel like there’s a lot more going on than just that.”

She placed her hands on Jungkook’s. “But you know what? Whether or not she’s dating him, she knows him. And she’s here. Just outside. If we can go and talk to her, she can clear this up. Come on.”

She stood and tried to pull him after her.

“But, but what if I’m right? What if she says Yoongi just”—

“Then you’ll know, and you can move on. Friends come and go—and I’m not saying Yoongi’s left you,” she said, noticing how his face fell at that thought, “But I am saying that knowing will help.”

He nodded.

Stood up.

They walked towards the door, hand in hand.

“Also, Jimin doesn’t just ‘put up with you,’” she said, mocking Jungkook’s voice in a teasing way as she quoted him, “He’s your friend, and he loves you. That’s why he’s here whenever he can be.”

Jungkook smiled, because she was right. There was no need to feel bad for himself. There were people who loved him, and he was getting better. Little by little.

He couldn’t discount Yoongi yet.

The girl with the guitar could help.

Mikyeong stopped.

Her hands slid from his.

“Mikyeong?”

He turned.

Her face had gone pale.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She barely managed to shake her head before collapsing against the wall.

Jungkook lunged forward to catch her. Pain shot through him at the sudden movement, but he kept her head from hitting anything.

“God, Mikyeong, what was that? Do I need to get someone?”

“Yes,” she panted, “Yes, I need… I need…” 

A high, strangled sound came from her throat. Her fingers dug into Jungkook’s arm. She shuddered and gasped.

Jungkook could hardly hear his own voice screaming for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger... you'll find out what happens on Saturday, October 3rd.


	21. Just One Day: Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so busy today I almost forgot about posting XD But thank goodness I didn't. The conclusion to last week's cliffhanger is here :)

Jungkook had thought about texting Jimin, but Jimin was working.

Hoseok probably had the phone, anyways. And he was working, too.

Jungkook had told them that was okay.

That he was fine.

He was fine.

Mikyeong wasn’t.

The time it had taken for a nurse to hear him screaming for help, and for a crew to come with a stretcher, and for them to take her trembling form away from him, to rush her away who knows where…

The clock on his new phone said it was three minutes.

It had felt like an hour.

He’d been sitting in his room since then.

Every so often, a nurse had come to update him.

“They aren’t sure what’s wrong.”

“She’s stable now.”

“Her mother is with her.”

And, finally, five hours after he’d been sure he was watching her die, her mother stepped into his room.

She smiled at him.

But he saw that her makeup was smeared and her eyes were rimmed with red.

He couldn’t ask.

He couldn’t…

“She said she was tired of me hovering,” said Mrs. Cho.

He still couldn’t say anything.

“But she’s been asking for you, and Dr. Lee said you can go.” When Jungkook still didn’t respond, she continued, “You don’t have to. She will be okay.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook said, “Don’t say that when you know it’s not true.”

Mrs. Cho looked away for a second.

She stood as if to leave.

“Wait,” Jungkook said, “I’ll go. I… I just don’t know… I just don’t…”

The tears were close again. It took all he had to keep them at bay.

On the way over, Mrs. Cho explained that this had happened before. That it used to happen all the time. But then they’d switched her meds around, and she’d gone for over a year without collapsing.

She told him a string of medical terms that they’d done to Mikyeong over the past hours. He understood none of it.

But Mikyeong was stable, now.

Mrs. Cho opened the door for him, and he wheeled himself in. He hadn’t told anyone that his back hurt when he’d caught Mikyeong from falling. His pain hadn't seemed important.

There was a nurse sitting on Mikyeong’s little couch. She was working through some paperwork on a tablet.

A new machine was next to Mikyeong’s bed, and there were wires coming out of it, trailing under the pale bedsheets. He could see the line from her heartbeat on the monitor. It didn’t look normal, but the nurse didn’t seem concerned.

Mikyeong’s hair was tied behind her head, with only the wispy ends loose around her face. His heart caught in his throat for a minute as he truly looked at her. She was pale, yes, but so much better than earlier. She’d been gasping, desperate for air, as he held her in the hallway. By the time the emergency crew arrived, her face had taken on a blueish hue.

Jungkook wheeled over next to her bed.

She kept staring at the ceiling.

She had asked for him, right? He glanced at the nurse in the corner. She met his eye and nodded encouragingly.

“Hey, Mikyeong,” he said. He was pretty sure this was the first time he’d started the conversation.

And for the first time, she didn’t reply to something he said.

“Really scared me there for a minute,” Jungkook continued. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She inhaled sharply and squinted her eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Shut up,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

He shut up.

He thought he should probably leave.

As soon as he started the wheel back, she said, “Don’t go.” 

He stayed.

He watched her.

Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes.

“Your mom said this happened before,” Jungkook said, softly, because he couldn’t just watch. “She said that it’s not so bad.”

Mikyeong snorted. “Not so bad,” she said. “Not so bad. Can I be honest with you?”

He had thought she was always honest.

“I’m afraid,” she said, her voice shaking, “I’m so afraid.”

He glanced over her again. The wires and the beeping and the ever-present IV. The tears streaking down to her pillow and the line clenched between her eyebrows and her fingers dug into the bedsheets.

He could fix one of these things.

Slowly, carefully, like Jimin had that first night after Jungkook had woken, and whenever the pain had been so bad he was sure death would be better, he took her hand.

She let him.  
And then he asked her a question like what she always asked him:

“Why are you afraid?”

“I’m dying,” she replied, quietly.

“Everyone dies,” Jungkook said. Just quoting her.

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared,” she said, “I’m scared of being all alone and what it will feel like for my soul to leave my body and what it will be like afterwards.”

It took him a moment to put his thoughts around that. When he could breathe again, he asked, “Why?”

“Because I haven’t done all I wanted,” she said, “I wanted to go places. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to travel to Paris and kiss a boy on top of the Eiffel Tower. I wanted to see the Great Wall of China. I wanted to run a marathon—that’s why I was in track as a kid, see?—and I wanted to save someone’s life.”

“Why?” he asked.

“God, am I really that obnoxious? I see what you’re doing, you know. Do I have to have a freaking reason?”

Jungkook glanced at the nurse, to make sure he wasn’t doing the wrong thing in making her talk like this. But the nurse nodded at him.

“I don’t want to be stuck in this stupid grey box. I don’t want to know that any day I could just _stop_. No more Mikyeong. No more me.”

“What about making the most of every day?” Jungkook asked, quietly.

“That works for a little while,” she said, “Just a little while. And then I get knocked down and I remember that my body doesn’t want to keep going and someday my will isn’t going to be enough to keep me living. And I want to live. I want to live so freaking bad, only I can’t. I can’t.”

Her voice cracked.

She started to cry in earnest.

A lump was in Jungkook’s throat. He waited for it to go away.

He wouldn’t leave her, whatever happened.

There had to be something else he could do.

He thought for a few minutes as Mikyeong cried quietly.

“Can I tell you a story?” he asked.

She nodded.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “This is the story about a girl named Cho Mikyeong,” he started, “And before you say, ‘Hey! That’s me!’ Well, duh. Of course it is. Only this time, you and me aren’t sick anymore. And we happen to have discovered a rich uncle you never knew about, and we’re going to Paris for the rest of the summer.”

Even though her lips were trembling, she smiled a little.

“But long plane rides aren’t so easy,” Jungkook said, “And we’re a few hours in when…”

He told the story until his back hurt too much to keep sitting up.

Mikyeong suggested that he could fit on the bed. That he shouldn’t leave tonight.

This seemed wildly unacceptable, and with every authority that agreed to it, the more frightened he became. Mikyeong must have come closer to death today than they’d told him.

His nurse brought him a pain pill to take instead of his nightly injection.

He laid down next to her, still holding her hand, and told the story until his words blurred into nonsense and darkness fell over him.

##

“Gosh,” Jimin said, “First Hoseok has a girl over. And then I show up here to find out you’ve spent the night with Mikyeong?”

Jungkook sighed. “She was scared. She almost died. I just slept next to her so she wouldn’t feel alone. You did the same thing for me, remember?”

“Yeah, well, _I_ don’t have a crush on you.”

“She doesn’t, either.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. I asked her if she’d go out with Baekhyun from EXO and she said that dying girls don’t pursue romance.”

“But what about…” Jimin paused, the teasing grin falling from his face.

“What about what??”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Umm. I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you. I would have come after work, if you’d told me.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I was okay by then, because I was with her.”

He cringed a little when he realized how that could sound, but Jimin didn’t tease him any more. He just sat there, thoughtfully gazing at his shoes.

“Think I should talk to her?” Jimin asked.

Jungkook shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt. She’s your friend, too.”

“I think I will, then. Before I have to go.”

“How is work, by the way?”

Jimin shrugged. “Oh, you know. I’ve got this new coworker who kind of hates me, but we only work together on Saturdays. Which, well. Is today, I guess.”

Jimin packed up his stuff and left to see Mikyeong.

Jungkook laid his head down. Dr. Yang was scheduled to come see him soon, and he would have to tell him about overextending his back. He wondered if it would delay his recovery at all.

He wondered how much longer he had to stay in the hospital. Last night, after all, they’d allowed him to take the regular pain meds, not the intensive painkillers that made him lose all consciousness. If he was able to get by on something he could get a prescription for, could he leave?

He’d woken up with a much clearer mind this morning. Woken up to see that Mikyeong was already awake, reading a giant anatomy and physiology textbook next to him. She’d smiled at him.

He liked sleeping with other people. When he was still in school, he thought it was because it made him feel safe. They’d all spend the night in the classroom sometimes, after Seokjin hacked the security system, and Jungkook would get up to see everyone there, waking up all sleepy and with their hair a mess. 

And those few times when Yoongi’s father had been out of town, and Yoongi had invited Jungkook over to his house. Falling asleep on Yoongi’s bed while his friend composed songs, and then waking up with Yoongi crashed out next to him. Yoongi always looked so happy when he was asleep.

Then, they woke up. They made breakfast. They joked around. And then they got on with their lives, remembering that at one point they’d been safe. He’d been safe. Happy. Okay. Unconscious for six or so hours next to someone who loved him.

Instead of six hours shaking in his own bed, afraid that at any time Kangmin might decide to hold a pillow over his face until he nearly passed out, or start pricking his skin with a thumbtack, and he couldn’t even scream because no one cared, no one at all. And Jungkook would wake up and creep from his room and creep off to school and hope that if he stayed invisible and no one would hurt him.

That’s what life was. Before, and after.

Before hearing Yoongi play for the first time.

After…

After that last day.

##

Spring  
Year 20  
-two years ago-

Jungkook had been shaking all day. Couldn’t hold a pencil. Couldn’t follow the track of what the teachers were saying. So many times, he was called on to answer. So many times, he couldn’t.

They laughed at him.

They all laughed at him.

And if they knew what he was afraid of, they’d laugh more.

Kangmin was just messing around. Goofing off. The stuff brothers did.

Jungkook was overreacting.

And Kangmin hadn’t meant it, anyways. He didn’t apologize, per se, after Jungkook had fallen down the stairs and hit the metal railing with a crack. Just passed Jungkook on the concrete landing where he’d fallen. Said “I didn’t mean that.” Hurried by and off to school.

Leaving Jungkook to follow.

His hands shaking like mad.

An awful pain in his side that made every breath feel like fire.

(There’s no way his ribs were broken, right? Kangmin wouldn’t do that. He hadn’t meant to. If Jungkook went to the nurse, they’d just laugh at him.)

He just had to make it to the bell.

The bell.

The bell.

Finally.

School was out.

He could ignore everyone. Go to the old gym, and down the stairs behind it into the basement classrooms.

The music met him.

_His_ song.

Yoongi was still writing it. Said he always would be.

Yoongi paused his music and glanced back at Jungkook. He didn’t exactly smile, but Jungkook knew he was happy to see him.

The music continued. Jungkook laid down on two desks he’d pulled together. He gently set his hands on his ribs. Yes, that’s where it hurt. On the right side. But it wasn’t so bad now. As the music continued, he felt all the shakiness go out of him. The memory of gravity pulling him towards concrete, grabbing for anything to catch himself, thinking maybe this time he might flip over the rail and fall to his death forty feet below… all of that faded away.

All that was left was the song. Each note and chord and progression, dancing along to an endless melody. It went a little longer this time, with a new twist, before looping seamlessly back to the beginning.

Jungkook was nearly asleep when he heard someone coming down the stairs. From the sound of the steps, probably Seokjin or Namjoon. Not that it mattered. No one would try and wake him. No one would stop Yoongi playing.

“So this is what’s going on?” a deep voice shouted.

Jungkook blinked his eyes open, only to feel hands grasp the front of his shirt and heft him off of the desks.

“What the hell have you done to this room?”

Jungkook could only imagine what the teacher was seeing. Taehyung had painted murals on most of the surfaces. Hoseok had set up some cracked mirrors against a wall for dance practice. Namjoon had an entire shelf of books on mythology that should have been in the library. Piles of garbage they should have cleaned up over a year ago stretched into the darkness of far side of the room.

“Punk kids, think you own the world, do you?”

He slammed Jungkook back against the wall.

Jungkook didn’t mean to scream. It just sort of tore out of him, as the teacher’s elbow hit his ribs.

He slid to the floor. There was a blur. Yoongi swearing. The teacher shouting. Jungkook blinked, willing his eyes to focus.

He saw Yoongi’s fist connect with the teacher’s face.

The teacher fell down. More swearing.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” the teacher said, grabbing one of the desks and struggling to his feet. “You’d better apologize.”

“You just threw a freshman against the wall,” Yoongi said, “You wanna go, old man? I’m not scared of you.”

There was a moment where Jungkook was sure the teacher would hit Yoongi, too. The teacher was taller, and stronger, and really not all that old. But Yoongi stood there, facing him, fists ready.

“I don’t need to hurt you,” the teacher said, “Your life is already over.”

He spat at Yoongi before leaving.

Yoongi waited until his footsteps had faded. Then he turned, and in two steps was at Jungkook’s side.

“Where’d he hurt you?”

“He didn’t,” Jungkook gasped, “He didn’t hurt me.”

“You don’t scream like that for nothing,” Yoongi said.

“I was hurt from… from earlier,” Jungkook said. “Wasn’t him. God. Yoongi. You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

“Frick that. Can you breathe okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook said.

“It doesn’t sound like you can breathe okay.”

“I can breathe just fine, damn it!” But his breath was coming in short gasps. “What did you go and do that for? What if puts you in jail? I was fine, you didn’t have to do that, Yoongi, god…”

Yoongi grabbed his shoulders. Firm, but not painful. “Jungkook. Look at me.”

Jungkook focused. His breath was still sharp, but he looked at Yoongi’s face. At the cold determination that rested in his eyes.

“I know you get hurt almost every day and I can’t do a fricking thing to stop it,” he said, “And I know you don’t want me to step in, and I don’t. I don’t. And I hate it. I hate that I couldn’t do anything, even if you’d let me.”

Jungkook was shaking again. Yoongi had never talked to him like this, and it scared him. It was like Yoongi knew what was coming.

“But don’t you think, for one second,” Yoongi continued, “That anyone’s ever going to hurt you on my watch. No one. I don’t regret anything. No matter what happens. Okay? You understand me? Whatever happens to me, keep…” his voice cracked, and Jungkook felt something in his soul shatter, “Keep going. Just like your song. Okay? You hear me?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Good.” Yoongi let up his grip on Jungkook, and his posture sank a little. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Okay. Now”—

Jungkook gritted his teeth against the pain, and leaned forward and hugged him. His arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, his face pressed into his shirt. Blinking away the tears.

“Whoa,” Yoongi said, “Umm. I.”

“The song can’t keep going without you playing it,” Jungkook said, his voice muffled.

Yoongi swore softly, and carefully wrapped his arms around Jungkook. “Yeah, kid. I guess you’re right.”

The music was over. The only sound was their breathing. 

They clung to those last moments.

Then the world fell apart.

##

July, Year 22  
-present day-

There were a few more times, after that. Scattered. When Yoongi did pick up his phone. Let Jungkook into his hotel room. But these weren’t the same. Yoongi wasn’t the same. Without constant access to music, he fell apart. Scribbling unreadable compositions into notebooks. Drinking soju until he passed out and Jungkook thought he was dead.

And then that night.

Beginning of May.

Cussing him out.

Telling Jungkook he hated him.

Lighting his hotel room on fire.

Seeing Jungkook’s injured hands.

Swearing he’d never try and hurt himself again.

Going to the beach.

Saying goodbye in the parking lot.

Never coming back.

Nothing about it added up. Yoongi wouldn’t just abandon him. Jungkook knew it.

If that girl came back to play again, he would ask her about Yoongi. If Mikyeong was well enough, she could come, too.

Knowing was better than guessing.

##

“I’m guessing Jungkook told you everything,” Mikyeong said, brightly, as Jimin entered her room.

“He told me you weren’t doing well yesterday,” Jimin said.

“So he didn’t mention the unseemly fear that came on me at the thought of my own mortality?”

“Uh”—

“Which caused me to beg him to stay with me overnight, lest I die alone and forgotten?”

“Uh”—

“Because that all happened, and there should be no secrets between us. I woke up first, and he’s laying there like this”—she did an impression of Jungkook’s sleeping face, and Jimin laughed—“and there’s just this trail of saliva soaking into the pillow. Did you know he drools in his sleep?” 

Jimin smiled. “I did know that.”

“I can’t complain too much, because I do, too. But that’s a rabbit trail. Why are you here? Want me to pry the depths of your psyche for the secret behind your seizures?”

Jimin shook his head. “I have to go to work in a little bit, so we probably shouldn’t.”

“So, why are you here?”

Jimin shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She gave him two thumbs up. “Yup. Over the melodrama. Life’s too short to be stuck there for long.”

“I thought there was supposed to be no secrets between us.”

Her expression faltered. “There isn’t. Not really. Sure, last night I went real deep. But I don’t want to be stuck there anymore. I was pathetic. I’m sorry I made Jungkook watch me cry and whine. Hey. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not,” Jimin said, hiding his hand behind his mouth. “I just hope you really are living your best life.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Not a bit.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “So, what’s your wise advice for me, oh great and powerful Park Jimin?”

“Don’t limit yourself.”

“Since when do I limit myself?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do not. You suck.” But she said it fondly.

“I’ll be off to work, then.”

“Whatever.”

He walked over to her bedside. She pointedly refused to look at him, forcing a pout onto her face. Jimin brushed some stray hairs off her forehead.

“You’re going to be late,” she said.

“Jungkook didn’t mind at all,” Jimin said, “In fact, I’m pretty sure he liked being with you last night. Even if you think you were pathetic and whiny. You guys are friends. He cares about you just as much as you care about him.”

A small hint of smile crept over her face. “You really think so?”

“Definitely.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and met his gaze. Her eyes were sad, and for a moment Jimin felt like he might cry.

“Now, seriously,” Mikyeong said, “Get the heck out of here. If I’m the reason you get fired, I’ll never forgive myself.”

As Jimin descended the halls and stairs towards the exit, he got an uncanny feeling that something was wrong. Something about how the nurses were walking, heads down, whispering together.

When he reached the lobby, he found it bustling with people. He pressed back against the wall, unsure if he should try to go through. An air of panic was all around.

“Excuse me? Excuse me?” A woman was trying to get the attention of one of the front desk ladies, who all seemed to be busy. “My son might have been on that metro, and I can’t get a hold of him. Has he been brought in yet?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know”—

“Choi Soobin is his name. He’s just seventeen. Please, I have to know if”—

The sentiment was echoed in dozens of conversations around the room.

People looking for people.

People afraid.

Jimin ducked back down the hall. There was another exit, a side door he could slip out.

It wasn’t any more peaceful outside. Ambulances were coming and going, sirens blaring.

Finally, he made it away.

The metro was closed.

Thank goodness he was able to catch a bus.

He ran from the station to the restaurant, reaching the time clock just a minute before he was supposed to clock on.

“Must be rough,” said a dull voice behind him. Jimin turned. Baek Hyunjin, hair slicked back, calm as could be, was staring at his phone. “Bet you almost were late, what with that crash on the metro stopping all the lines.”

“Is that what happened?” Jimin asked, truly curious. 

“Just before Ttukseom Park station. They don’t know what caused it. Just flew off the rails. Bunch of people dead. Whole lot more injured. Here, want to see the news story? There’s pictures and everything.”

“No, thank you,” Jimin said. He felt a little sick. He took the metro all the time. What if he’d decided to go straight to work instead of visiting Mikyeong first?

That was ridiculous. He didn’t even go near Ttukseom Park station. But still. All those people, packed in a metro car, the breaking glass and crushing metal and—

“Park! Get over here!” shouted his manager. Jimin took a deep breath to clear his head.

“Yes, sir! I’m ready!”

##

The day was here.

Mikyeong and Jungkook sat in the back row. They didn’t want to intrude on anyone who was here simply for the sake of enjoying the music.

The girl had introduced herself as Lee Jandi. She played pop hits, Irish ballads, American country, Korean classics, and, of course, part of Jungkook’s song. She’d adjusted it for the guitar, and gave it a conclusion that seemed to resolve the themes.

The music ended.

She cleaned up her equipment, and all the sick children and their parents returned to the hospital or wandered off to other parts of the garden.

Jungkook was too scared to move. He and Mikyeong were the last people in the chairs. A hospital staff member was folding up the rows in front of them.

“Come on,” Mikyeong whispered in his ear, “Let’s just go talk to her.”

Jungkook shook his head.

He didn’t want to know.

What if Yoongi really had left him for good?

What if all the times they’d spent together, all the memories, all the days where Jungkook felt like he had a real brother, what if that was all not true? Something his mind had created out of desperation?

The girl closed her guitar case.

Mikyeong tried to get Jungkook to stand, and then finally sighed and leaned against him.

But Lee Jandi walked towards them. Her hair had faded in the past two weeks, and she wore it styled in messy curls that just brushed her shoulders. 

Now, Jungkook found he couldn’t turn and run.

She sat on the chair in front of them, leaning her forearms on the back of it.

“We’ve met before,” she said, looking at Jungkook.

He nodded.

“You want to ask me about Min Yoongi, I presume?”

His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry and he wanted to run away as fast as he could, but he nodded again.

##

They sat in the hospital cafe. Jandi had requested food before she could discuss anything. She insisted on buying them food, as well, because she was their elder and shouldn’t force them to watch her eat and have nothing.

“So, you’re recovering well?” Jandi asked.

Jungkook nodded. “Two weeks, and I can go home. Though I don’t see why it wouldn’t be sooner. I can walk again. Not for miles or anything, but I can get around and take care of myself.”

“What about you?” she turned to Mikyeong. “You get hit by a truck, too?”

“No, I’m just dying,” she said, waving her hand. “Don’t mind me.”

“God, really? That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mikyeong said, smiling, “Everyone dies sometime, right?”

The fact was, Mikyeong hadn’t really recovered from her incident two weeks ago. So much so that they didn’t want her walking anymore, unless it was just around her room. She and Jungkook had spent the last few days covering her wheelchair in pink glitter and ribbons, much to the dismay of her nurse.

“What do you want to know first?” Jandi asked, turning to Jungkook.

“Is he okay?”

She snorted. “You could say that.”

“Do you talk to him often?” he pressed.

“No.”

That was shocking. “What?”

“Oh, he made it very clear he never wanted to see me again. But since we’re still employed at the same bar, he has to. But we don’t talk together.”

Jungkook blinked. “But I thought he liked you?”

“He liked you a hell of a lot more than he liked me, and have you seen him once since you got hurt?”

Jungkook shook his head.

“Can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for him to reply before continuing. “What happened that night? The last time you saw him?”

Jungkook told her about his last conversation with Yoongi. Going their separate ways in the parking lot.

“Weird,” she said.

“Why?”

“I mean, from how he reacted, you would have thought he shoved you out in front of the car. I mean, I know he didn’t, cause we hung out a week later and he still had no clue you were hurt. Thought you and your other friends had just stood him up. But I assumed he’d at least told you to go home a certain way, or kept you out later than you should have been, or something.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“There’s nothing you can think of that would make him blame himself, directly, for your accident?”

Jungkook started to shake his head, and then paused. “You said he made it very clear that he never wanted to see you again?”

“Got super drunk and cussed me out while I was just trying to get him home.”

“That’s what he did to me,” Jungkook said, “The night that he tried to kill himself. He… he didn’t do anything again, right? Try anything?”

“Got thrown in jail overnight for drunk and disorderly conduct, but our boss bailed him out. And get this—the idiot only agreed to take the bail if our boss would request that I never speak to him again! But other than that, no. I see him three or four days a week. Comes into work, does his job, plays his music. Doesn’t talk to me or anyone else.”

“That’s really weird,” Mikyeong said.

“Really,” Jungkook said.

“I know. It’s crazy.”

They continued eating in silence for a few minutes. Jungkook let this all roll around in his head. Taehyung was planning on coming to see him this evening: that was good. Taehyung liked to work through problems like this as of late. Always texting Jungkook, asking him things about Seokjin he couldn’t quite remember, or the old stories Namjoon used to read to them in their classroom hideout.

“How do you feel about it?” Jungkook asked.

“I kind of hate him,” Jandi said, “I can see he’s upset, but I have nothing to do with your schoolboy past. You’re the only one of his friends I ever met, and that was very briefly. He had no right to say those things to me, and no right to pretend I don’t exist. But…”

She looked distantly over Jungkook’s shoulder.

“But what?” Mikyeong asked.

“I wish he’d be happy. I wish he’d stop sabotaging himself and just deal with whatever’s going on. We had good times together, playing music and talking. I liked him, and I thought he could maybe like me if he could take a step or two away from the piano for a minute.”

Jungkook laughed. “Fat chance of that ever happening.”

“I know, right? It’s like he’s glued to the thing. Never makes a mistake. It’s almost creepy.”

“Have you ever heard him just straight improv?”

“Only twice! He was at the piano after everything shut down, and…”

For the next hour, Jungkook told Jandi old stories about Yoongi, and Jandi told Jungkook about all the crazy things he’d done to avoid running into her in the past two months.

Mikyeong didn’t say a word the whole time, but every time Jungkook glanced at her, she looked happy.

##

“Why can’t I go home now?” Jungkook asked.

He was sitting in Dr. Lee’s office. He’d walked here on his own. He walked everywhere.

“You re-injured some muscles a few weeks back, if you haven’t forgotten,” Dr. Lee said.

“Yes, but it wasn’t a big deal. Dr. Yang said I’m fine.”

“You’re still on pain meds,” said Dr. Lee.

“Yes, but I can get them from the pharmacy. I know I can. I did when I had my tonsils out in seventh grade.”

Dr. Lee looked at him. “Why do you want to leave so badly? I thought you liked being here. You and Mikyeong seem to have a good time together.”

“Of course I’ll come see her. Every day, probably. But it’s expensive to live here and… and I know Hoseok’s paying for it. I know he’s probably going to be paying for it for a long time. I want to get out of here, so he doesn’t have to pay so much.”

“You want to help Hoseok?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Lee rearranged some papers on his desk. Typed a few notes on his computer. Flipped through an old book.

“If you want to help Hoseok,” the man said at last, “You will stay in this hospital until you don’t need opioid-based pain medications anymore.”

Strange. “How long will that be?”

“I’ll have them begin working you off of them today. Next Sunday, you can go home.”

One more week.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, standing and bowing.

He didn’t have much time to consider why Dr. Lee wouldn’t let him have a prescription for the pain meds, because Mikyeong was waiting to quiz him on their latest educational endeavor. After that, he played piano, and they watched a cheesy television drama and ate popcorn.

Yes, even if he didn’t live here, he’d be back every day.

##

Jungkook and Mikyeong were lounging in her room. For the past hour, Jungkook had been continuing the story of their future adventures in Paris. They’d pulled up a Maps app on his phone, and visually toured through the park at the base of the Eiffel tower. Jungkook was about to explain the details of them getting on the lift to go up the tower, when Mikyeong interrupted him.

“You’re going home with Jimin and Hoseok at eight tomorrow night, right?”

“Umm, might be closer to nine before they get here.”

“So it’s your last night here,” she said.

“Yeah, so?”

“What’s your absolute favorite thing to do?”

He shrugged. “Just hang out here, I guess.”

“No. Before. Back when it was just you against the world. What did you do for fun?”

“Music.”

“We’ve already done music,” she said, rolling her eyes. "And that was Yoongi's thing, not yours."

“I liked to go on the roof,” Jungkook said. “I was supposed to be at night school, but I skipped most of the time. Instead, I’d just climb up on the roof of a tall building and stare at the stars.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never told me before now,” she said, “It would have been much easier to do when they let both of us walk. But, well…” she stared up at the ceiling, “Yes, we can still make it work. Listen here…”

She explained her plan. Based on past experience, he thought it had a thirty percent chance of success. Didn’t really matter. Escaping from nurses on guard was one of his other favorite things to do, so even if they never made it to the roof, it would still be a good evening.

But they made it.

He managed to look enough like someone who was supposed to be pushing Mikyeong around that no one questioned them. They swung through several wings they rarely went to so as not to be recognized. Finally, they found an elevator that took them all the way up.

“I can’t believe there’s an elevator,” Jungkook said as the doors slid shut.

“I heard they put it in for the cancer patients. You aren’t the only kid who likes to look at the stars.”

“Have you ever been up here?”

She shook her head.

The doors opened.

He pushed her out.

“Oh, my god,” she said, looking up. “Can you see them?”

The sky was still a little grey. It generally was, in Seoul. But the still stars glittered.

“They’re beautiful,” she said.

This rooftop was much more civilized than the ones he frequented. There were rails on the edge, so you couldn’t fall. Probably for the best. A few benches were scattered around, and some potted plants that wouldn’t be roasted by the summer sun.

He sat on one of the benches. Held her hands as she stood and slid onto the bench next to him.

“Do you remember that song Jandi played earlier?” she asked.

“Which one?”

“Second to last. Something American, I think.”

“Hmm. Let me see.” He pulled out his phone and searched for the song. Yes, that was the title. He pushed play.

“Ah. Yes. It’s very adventurous, isn’t it?”

It was.

His English wasn’t the best, but he understood the lyrics. When the song ended, he knew what he wanted to do. “Come on,” he said, unable to resist, “I want to show you something.”

“I’ll go anywhere you take me.”

He pushed her wheelchair to the edge. The rails would interrupt the feeling of danger, since they couldn’t fall, but that was good. He’d never let Mikyeong risk her life like he did with his own.

“Do you think you could stand for a minute?” he asked.

“Yes, I don’t think that would be too trying. I’ve been even more lazy than required today.”

He took her hand, and she stood and stepped up onto the edge. They grabbed the rail, hands still touching.

“Look,” he said.

“Oh, I’m looking,” she said.

The wind caught Mikyeong’s hair. She tilted her chin up, and the her lips parted in the smallest of smiles. Her eyes closed for a moment, and her chest rose and fell as she inhaled the sweet smell of the air. The lights of the distant city made her skin look like it was glittering. She opened her eyes again, staring off into the vastness of space, all those little pinpricks of light a million lightyears away, still shining, still shining.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t want to look at the stars.

“Do you think you could play that song again?” she asked, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

“Yes,” he said, “Why?”

“Because I want to dance with you.” 

“Mikyeong, you’re not supposed to”—

“I know what I’m doing,” she said.

He set his phone on the edge and tapped play.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” Her voice still had that tone. She stepped down. “You told me once, about that dance in ninth grade you went to?”

Jungkook nodded, blushing. “Not the best example.”

“Well, I’ve never danced. Show me how it’s done.”

“Umm, well. I guess you should put your hands here, on my shoulders, and I’ll just put my hands here.”

“This close?”

“Yeah.” 

“Schools really have auditoriums full of teenagers encouraged to stand this close to each other?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Really not a great idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea. What do we do next?”

“Well, Hoseok says it doesn’t count as dancing, but if you’re slow dancing, you just kinda, like… this…” He stepped slowly to the right, and she followed him. “I’m really not all that good at this.”

“I don’t think this is something you can be good at,” she said. “It’s just, like, swaying? Sort of?”

“This music is a little too fast.”

They danced, slowly, off-beat, until the song ended. And they kept dancing. Slowly. Small steps. Her hands clasped behind his neck. His resting on her waist.

“Let’s imagine, for a moment,” she said, “That we’re real seniors at a real high school. And this is a real dance floor. There’s people all around. But we don’t see them, you see. Because they don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if we’re terrible at dancing. It’s just you and me.”

“That is not what it was like at all,” Jungkook said, “I felt all their eyes staring at me.”

“But you weren’t dancing with me, then, silly. Let’s get a little more imaginative. I’m picturing that you’re wearing a suit. Nothing too fancy, but it fits you well. Is black too formal? Because I feel like it would suit you.”

“I think black is fine.”

“What am I wearing?”

“Blue,” he said.

“Blue? Blue what?”

“Ummm, a blue dress?”

She giggled, and rested for forehead on his shoulder for a moment. “Can I elaborate?”

“If you want.”

“I want a long dress. With flowy skirts, like a princess. But not too many layers, or it would be horribly uncomfortable. And I’m not wearing heels, so you’ll have to look down at me like this. Is that okay?”

He looked down at her eyes, sparkling just inches from his.

“Yeah, yeah it’s just fine.”

She giggled again, and continued. “Mother would never approve of something sleeveless, and I think I have to agree with her. But lacy sleeves, sort of see-through, those would be okay. And sparkles. Sparkles all over.”

“Of course.”

She sighed a little. “I’m a bit tired.”

They stopped dancing.

She made no effort to leave his arms.

She rested her head on his chest, arms wrapped behind his neck.

He slid his arms around her back, and she leaned against him.

His chin fit perfectly on top of her head.

It felt like all his life, he’d been waiting for this moment. This moment where everything fell away. The stars above him. The earth beneath him. The wind surrounding him. No one around except a person he was perfectly comfortable and safe with. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him.

Someone he cared about very much.

“If I could live forever,” Mikyeong said, and at the moment, Jungkook believed she would, “I might just fall in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Behind the scenes: is it terrible for someone to love something they've written? because I really love this chapter. it makes me so happy to read it. i hardly ever write romance but i put all i had into that last scene and it makes me SO HAPPY. anyways.)
> 
> Only one chapter remains in Part 3. I've been posting weekly for like five months now, and I think that's the most consistent I've been with any sort of creative endeavor. Ever. I'm getting into the groove of college life, and managed to write a couple new scenes this week in the progressing story.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment any thoughts you have :) Just One Day: Chapter 10 will release on Saturday, October 10th.


	22. Just One Day: Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter in Part 3. Touches on all characters, and due to that, the timeline jumps around a bit. It doesn't make that much of a difference, but the dates at the top of the sections will help you keep track of when things happen in relation to each other.
> 
> I apologize for any continuity errors, and also, this is fanfic so I've done very little research on medical conditions etc.

August 15, Year 22

Panic.

Absolute panic.

_“I might just fall in love with you.”_

He’d taken her back to her room.

She’d hugged him one more time. They’d never really hugged before. But it felt so right.

He’d gone back to his room.

And now?

_Panic._

What was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to think of what had just happened?

Such a perfect moment, a perfect night, ending with—

_“I might just fall in love with you.”_

No. That wasn’t all.

_“If I could live for ever…”_

That was the condition.

They all knew she couldn’t.

Tomorrow, Jungkook would be well enough to leave.

Mikyeong never would be.

And he didn’t know what to do.

##

July 1, Year 22 

Namjoon couldn’t believe that he was actually moving.

He had an apartment. A real apartment. Small, but with a kitchen. A bathroom. A window. Air conditioning.

At the end of the month, he would finish a class that would give him the equivalent of a diploma.

In September, he would start at Yonsei. 

Before he’d made the deal, his only future had been continuing to live in this box, just scraping by, desperately hoping for a future that could never be.

Now, the future he’d always wanted was being handed to him.

He still worried about the catch. The fact that this knowledge he was gaining had the potential to hurt his friends. The fact that, as things stood, he would die before he reached that point.

He’d gone over it a thousand times. The exact wording of the deal. The words whispered in his head by the Voice. Something was coming, and if nothing changed, it would kill him.

But what if he could change it?

What if he could live?

Did he want to try, if living would cause him to hurt his friends?

How badly would his knowledge hurt his friends? Would it hurt them more than him dying?

It was too much to think about.

He stuffed his old book into his duffel bag and surveyed the room. The new apartment was fully furnished, so he left the mattress. For once, he’d actually made the bed, with its threadbare sheets and the ragged old quilt. The desk, made from boards stacked on crates, and the old dining chair he’d dug out of the dump, were dusted and clean for the first time since he’d moved in. He’d even swept the floors and put fresh batteries in the lantern.

Now, for the last part of his plan.

He walked out of the container and down the dirt path. It was nearly midnight. And, as usual, the boy with the sunglasses was curled up under his plywood lean-to.

“Hey,” Namjoon said, kneeling down.

The kid jumped and hissed, shrinking back into his shelter.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Namjoon said, taking a step back. The kid looked a little like a wild animal. “You said you call yourself Choi, right?”

“That’s my name,” the kid lied. Namjoon had no idea what his name actually was, but it definitely wasn’t Choi. But it wasn’t his job to know.

“I’m moving out,” Namjoon said, “And I thought you might like to have my container.”

The kid tilted his head. “Every time I try to move in somewhere, somewhen chases me out.”

“Not here. It’s my place, and I’m giving it to you. No one can cross that threshold if you don’t want them to.”

“What, are you some sort of magician?”

Namjoon forced a laugh. The kid was smart. “Just trust me, okay?”

The kid crawled out into the darkness of the night. He was still wearing those sunglasses. He took a breath, tilted his head to the right, and then slowly walked towards the container house.

“You know, there are people that can help you at the youth shelter,” Namjoon said, “If you’re hurt or sick, people there will”—

“You never went,” the kid said. “And there’s nothing at all wrong with me.”

He pulled off the sunglasses and walked inside the house. After a few seconds, Namjoon heard him gasp.

“You okay in there?” Namjoon asked.

“It’s very nice, thank you. I haven’t slept in a bed for months.”

“Hope it helps.” He paused. “Is there anything else I can do to help you?” He stepped towards the still-open doorway.

“You've done too much already,” said the kid. 

He shut the door and bolted it.

Well, that was that.

He still felt a little guilty, that he was moving to a rent-free apartment, and this kid—he couldn’t be more than fourteen—was living in an eight-by-twelve box. 

Someday, he’d make sure to come by. Check in on him. Look under the doorway at the sigils he’d carved underneath for protection, to make sure they hadn’t faded.

##

August 16, Year 22

Jungkook woke up, sort of. He hadn’t really slept. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

What it meant.

What he should do.

He and Mikyeong had talked about romance. They’d talked about everything. Jungkook had told her about his ninth-grade girlfriend, the one who had moved to Japan. How everyone had helped him buy a plane ticket to go visit her. How they’d decided, after a wonderful weekend of exploring Tokyo, that they should end their relationship and move on.

Mikyeong had told him that with as few years as she had left, romance seemed to be the worst thing to spend that time on. She had to enjoy every moment, and falling in love seemed to be a long-term thing. She claimed that even if Baekhyun himself declared his undying love to her, she’d turn him down.

But what about last night?

What about what she’d said?

Had Jimin been right? Did she—could she—maybe like him? As not just a friend?

What did he think about that?

What should he do about it?

##

It had started in June. When the rain had poured down unexpectedly outside and Yoongi had been forced to eat his hamburger in the smoky interior of the bar.

He noticed her. He always noticed her. Jandi didn’t work today. She sat several chairs down from him. Mr. Kim was tending the bar, and he poured her a drink.

It seemed she was talking loudly. Probably to be heard over the noise of the storm outside.

He listened.

He couldn’t help it.

“I’ve been playing at the hospital,” she said, “Every-other Friday. For all the kids.”

“I don’t know if I could do that,” Mr. Kim said, “I think I’d feel too sad.”

“It is sad, sort of. But it’s happy, too. I hear stories. For example, there’s this one kid, got hit by a truck a few weeks back. Paralyzed him and nearly killed him.”

“Did they catch the guy?”

“Nah. Hit and run. But anyways, this kid sounds pretty amazing. He got this surgery, and it went really well, even though it’s the first time they ever tried it. I guess it’s really painful, but they say he’s fighting through it.”

Two weeks later, Yoongi was about to go out for his break when she showed up again. 

He stayed at the bar.

“Would you guess he was able to stand today? That kid I told you about? They say he’s through the worst of it. Getting stronger every day.”

Another two weeks.

“He’s walking now.”

“Walking?”

“I know, right?”

And later—

“I talked to him today, for the first time.”

“Really?” said Mr. Kim.

“Yeah. He and a friend came to listen to my music.”

And then, today, August 15th—

“Can you believe it, Mr. Kim? That boy who was hit by a car is going home tomorrow.”

Yoongi finished his dinner and stepped outside to smoke.

Part of him wished Jandi would follow him. He wanted to ask her more details. He wanted to know how they were. All of them. Jungkook and Hoseok and Jimin and…

No.

He couldn’t.

Finally, Jungkook was getting out of the mess Yoongi had put him in.

But was it his fault, really?

Was it maybe just chance?

Some careless driver? Jungkook exhausted and wandering and not paying attention?

An _accident?_

No. No way. Things like this just didn’t happen “accidentally.”

The only way to keep Jungkook okay, and to make sure nothing bad happened to Jandi, or to any of the rest of his friends, was to keep on as he was.

Music.

Eating.

Smoking (but less than before).

Sleeping.

Over and over and over again.

At least Jungkook was going to be okay.

He couldn’t ask for more than that.

##

August 16, Year 22

“Jungkook?”

He snapped awake, surprised that he’d drifted off.

“Sorry, hun, I didn’t realize you were asleep," said his nurse, "But Mikyeong sent me to see if you wanted to have lunch with her?”

“No,” Jungkook said, quickly and too loudly.

His nurse looked at him, concerned. “What’s wrong, hun? Are you feeling all right?”

“No. Ummm. I don’t know. I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

She nodded. “I thought they took you off the meds too quickly. If you wanted to stay a few more days”—

“No, I want to leave,” he said, “I just. Well. I’m tired.”

His nurse nodded. “I understand.”

He didn’t say anything as the nurse patted his head. “Would you like a sandwich or soup for lunch?”

“I don’t think I want to eat anything,” he said.

“You sure you aren’t sick?” She felt his forehead. “You don’t feel hot. I’ll bring you some snacks, at least. You need to keep up your strength.”

He nodded, and she left, closing his door quietly behind her.

He couldn’t see Mikyeong now.

Not when he had no idea what to say to her.

##

August 15, Year 22

Jimin still enjoyed his job. The rush of the kitchen, the sound his shoes made on the tile floor, how much stronger he felt now, from carrying trays of food to the tables. Last night, even, Jae had commented on how much better he looked, and Hoseok agreed. 

No one would guess anymore that he’d spent two years in a hospital room. Not one of his customers would have even considered that their cheerful waiter had nearly killed himself just a few months previously.

Ever since the metro accident, things had changed. It was to be expected. It was a tragedy. In the end, thirty-one people had died, a handful of them high school students. Nearly a hundred had been terribly injured. It was all over the news, everywhere. It made Jimin feel sick thinking about it. At work, he'd assumed he’d be able to avoid it.

Hyunjin made sure he never could.

Every time they ran into each other, the younger boy made mention of it. Of what one of the grieving mothers had said in an interview. A petition a group of school kids had made for better safety features on the metro. How even now, the government had no idea what had caused the accident.

Today, Hyunjin was working, even though it wasn’t his normal shift. This was counterbalanced by the fact that his manager had taken a sick day, and the assistant manager was a reasonable person. Reasonable, in this case, meant that he didn't try to get Jimin fired at every turn.

Jimin expected it to be a fine day.

He was giving an order to the cooks when there was a clatter in the back of the kitchen.

A moment later, Hyunjin and one of the younger dishwashers came forward. She was new, and Jimin didn't even know her name.

“What’s going on?” the assistant manager asked, bursting into the kitchen.

“I was washing the dishes,” the girl said, her voice shaking, “And… and… I think a glass broke in the water…”

Blood was dripping from a cut on her thumb.

More things were said. The girl was ushered away for medical assistance.

Jimin couldn’t pick out the words.

“Jimin? Jimin, are you all right?”

He didn’t even know who was asking it.

“I’m fine,” Jimin said, his voice not sounding like his own. “I think I’ll take my break now, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah. Go get some air.”

Jimin did not go to get air.

The weight of the galaxy pressed on his shoulders. The scent of autumn leaves and fresh strawberries seeped from the walls. He through himself into the bathroom, tried to lock the door—

Blood, blood, blood.

Alone.

Dying.

The last boy on earth.

Tears running down his face.

“Ohhh, so that’s what you’re hiding.”

He was not the last living soul on earth, but this voice didn’t comfort him. This voice wasn’t a friend like Hoseok. This voice wasn’t an angel like Mikyeong.

“Good thing I came in here,” the cold voice continued. “If a customer would have walked in on you, all possessed and twitching like that… I have no idea what would happen.”

He felt like he’d run a thousand miles. Like the world was cold and still. Like this was the first time his brain had ever thrown him into convulsions, but the millionth time he’d woken up to this cold-voiced boy staring at him.

“Can you even get up? Or are they going to send you back to the hospital again?”

Resentment at the kid’s informal language and unhelpful words rose inside Jimin and he pushed himself up.

A wave of dizziness—

He threw up.

“Ah, gross!” Hyunjin shouted. Jimin dragged himself to the toilet before he vomited again, and again, until he was shaking all over and had nothing left in his stomach.

“I’ll tell the assistant manager you have food poisoning,” Hyunjin said, sliding off his seat on the counter and stepping around Jimin. “He can’t fire you. No need for concern.”

The door opened and closed.

Jimin crawled to the door and locked it, then lay down on the cool tile.

There was nothing to do but wait until he could clean up the mess he’d made and limp onto the metro to get home.

He didn’t tell Hoseok.

He didn’t want him to worry.

But next time he had a chance to talk to Mikyeong, he was going to tell her about the blood. How the sight of it—even from that little cut—had been the trigger. At least this time. Maybe others. He wasn’t sure how it connected to the self-inflicted scars on his feet. 

Why would he make himself bleed, if blood would make him have a seizure?

##

Jungkook made two lists.

The first was, _Reasons Why I Shouldn’t Date Mikyeong:_  
_-she’s dying_

_-it’ll hurt really bad when she does_

_-she doesn’t want to hurt me_

_-she doesn’t want romance_

He thought for a moment, and then scratched it out and replaced it with:

_-she said she doesn’t want romance a while ago_

Just like she’d said she didn’t mind that she was dying.

He followed this with a second list:

_Reasons Why I Should Tell Mikyeong I would Like to date her:_

_-I love her and I think she loves me._

That was it. In writing it, he realized how real it was. He did love her. Their conversations. Listening to her talk about the human body and how to repair it. How she looked while she listened to him play the piano. The stories they’d tell each other. That ultimate dream she had, of being and normal girl with a normal boyfriend who kissed her on top of the Eiffel tower.

His nurse brought him dinner.

“Have you heard anything else from Mikyeong?” Jungkook asked.

She shook her head.

“I’m going to go see her after dinner.”

“Good,” said the nurse, “She was probably upset you didn’t join her for lunch, this being your last day and all.”

“I’ll be back here all the time,” Jungkook said.

As he ate, he thought about what he’d say. Because, well, there was a chance he was wrong. He knew that she loved him. But it was possible it was just a friendship love. That she didn’t want to date him.

He’d be okay with that. Really, he would. But he wanted to tell her how he felt. That he loved her. That he didn’t care that she was dying. That he’d be by her side, no matter what happened, for as long as she had left.

##

August 15, Year 22

“Where’s Jimin?” Jae asked.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said, “I thought he was coming after he got off work. Maybe he was tired.”

“Makes me anxious, him wandering the streets of Seoul without any form of contact. You should really get him a phone.”

“I’m trying, okay?” Hoseok snapped.

“Well duhh,” Jae snapped back. “It’s not like I think you can actually do it. I was just talking.”

Hoseok sighed and wiped sweat off his forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“I’m sorry, too. Should we take a break?”

He glanced at her. She wasn’t joking.

“I guess so,” he said.

There were cookies in the kitchen, leftover from one of the young student’s birthday class earlier that day. They each took one and sat down.

“What do you think of this ballet routine?” she asked.

Hoseok nearly choked on his cookie.

“It’s fine,” he finally managed to say.

“I think so, too,” she said.

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that, overall, he should have disliked their practices as of late. He loved hiphop and street dancing, not the formalities of Russian ballet duets.

But, now… the closeness, the romance of the piece, how her foot looked as she stretched it into a point, the feeling of her body leaning against his, his hand on her thigh as he lifted her, the perfect angles of her every move…

God.

She was even making him like ballet.

“You’re staring at me,” she said.

“Sorry. I’m just thinking. There’s really no more competitions out there?”

“None worth our time.” 

“I brought the secretary her weekly burger, and she mentioned something about another dancing pair competing in this show in October. Do you think maybe we could”—

She shook her head. “I’m gone that weekend.”

“Gone?”

“Dance workshop in America,” she said, and looked away from him. “I know, it sucks, but I got accepted and it’s a very prestigious workshop.”

“Ah. Okay.” Of course. That was fine. It wasn’t all about him. She had a life, too.

They finished their snack and went back to the dance floor.

And as they danced, he began to wonder.

The feelings that flowed through him didn’t seem to stop with just him. In one lift, as he turned with her on his shoulder, she ran her hand along his jawline, staring down into his face with such longing in her eyes…

The dance continued.

She was simply practicing.

Emotion was important for a dancer.

Really, they were actors, too. Had to sell the romance.

Because they were from different worlds.

She, the world of dance and talent and probably a future career as a ballerina or Broadway star.

He, as the dirt-poor orphan who had to work his butt off to take care of his friends.

Dancing was breathing to both of them. But for someone like her, just breathing might be able to take her places.

For Hoseok, all his breathing gave him was the ability to take on one more day. One more shift of work. One more night of dance. Of hearing Jimin snore softly on the bunk below him, alive and as healthy as he’d ever been.

And every day—

No. He wouldn’t think about the money. The loans. He was the only one willing to take care of Jungkook, and he’d do it. He’d keep breathing, day in and day out, of his own free will, and nothing would help him or stop him.

##

Jungkook walked out into the garden, the bouquet of flowers in his hand. It was pretty, the prettiest they had in the gift shop in his price range, but it wasn’t quite perfect yet. 

He stopped in front of the bench where they’d sat. Where he’d told her about Yoongi for the first time. Heh. After this, after he was out, he could go see Yoongi on his own, if he wanted. He knew where he worked. He’d be able to take the bus there. Ask Yoongi directly why he was such a jerk.

He plucked just a few bunches of the blossoms, so the plants would still be full and beautiful. He tucked them in amongst the baby’s breath, and the blue stood out bright and beautiful.

She’d love it.

##

August 13th, Year 22

Seokjin sighed. The evening had gone so well. Better than he’d ever expected.

He could have a life.

A life outside the deal.

A life where he was just a normal young man. Not responsible for the life and death of his friends. Just go on a date with the pretty girl from the cafe.

He opened the door of his apartment and stepped inside.

He could see Taehyung sitting on the couch in the dark. He didn’t look up.

Seokjin flipped on the light. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch me,” Taehyung said through clenched teeth.

“I won’t,” Seokjin said. He sat down on the furthest side of the couch from his friend.

Taehyung was shivering. He wasn’t crying anymore, but obviously had been. Everything in Seokjin screamed that he should give him a hug, but he knew that wasn’t what Taehyung wanted.

Not now.

He was trapped in the memories where physical touch only meant pain.

The place Seokjin finally, finally, after days and months and more, had managed to save him from.

Seokjin went into the kitchen. Put water on to boil. Made two cups of chamomile tea. Dropped a spoonful of honey in each.

He set one on the end table near Taehyung.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me. I killed you,” Taehyung said.

“That was just a dream,” Seokjin lied.

“And then I nearly did it again.”

“Tae”—

“When you were drowning. I almost didn’t jump in after you.”

“You nearly died,” Seokjin said, “Would have been perfectly natural to not try and save me.”

“There’s something inside me,” Taehyung said, “Something inside me that wants death, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t. I can’t. I asked for it and I needed it but now it won’t go away. How can I make it go away?”

Seokjin knew that Tae was on to him, but he still hadn’t confessed anything. Maybe it was cruel, trying to convince Tae it was all in his head. That his memories were just dreams. But what was the other option? Tell him, “Yeah, we’ve sold our souls to the devil and there’s nothing we can do about it? Every good thing you try will end in another bad thing happening? I barely managed to save you, and the next night Jungkook steps out in front of”—

“Just go back to sleep,” Seokjin said, blocking the thought from his head, “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m just really sorry. I don’t want to, to hurt anyone, I don’t want to.”

“Drink your tea and go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

Tae just kept shivering, his eyes staring ahead at nothing. Seokjin wondered if he could convince his father to pay for the kid to get some counseling. His anxiety seemed even worse than it had when they’d all been in school together.

“This weekend, Jungkook gets to come home, remember?” Seokjin said, ignoring the pain it gave him just saying Jungkook's name, “You’re going with Jimin and Hoseok to pick him up. Spending the night. Probably eat so much junk food you’ll throw up.”

A half smile fluttered across Taehyung’s face. “Won’t you come? You’re a better driver than Hoseok.”

Seokjin shook his head. “I have an online meeting with my university advisor.”

“Liar.”

“I just can’t see him quite yet. I still feel like it’s my fault.” Tae glanced meaningfully at him, and Seokjin repeated his well-rehearsed excuse: “I should have offered to drive him home, instead of making him walk all the way. Then this never would have happened.”

Tae took a slow sip of his tea and sighed.

“Goodnight, kid,” Seokjin said. He stood and walked to his desk, opening his computer to an essay he had to write for his summer philosophy class.

After he was sure Tae had fallen asleep, he pulled the pink journal out of his drawer. Flipped it open to the “bucket list” page.

_Walk along the Han river at midnight_ , check.

He read through the rest of the un-checked dreams and events. Some of them he couldn’t do now, like _backpacking through europe_ or _see the statue of liberty_. But others—

Yes.

He could continue down the list.

He’d tell her, eventually. That he had the journal. That all these awesome dates weren’t his idea, but hers.

But now?

Now, he was enjoying the fact that he had a life outside of the deal.

A girl who knew nothing about his past or his friends.

A future that was open and bright and fully under his control.

He wondered if there was anything he could do to distract Tae.

To give him something to live for outside of the deal he made. Something for now, something for the future.

##

August 15, Year 22  
Yes.

Jungkook was ready.

Whatever she said in response, he was ready to say he loved her.

That if she wanted that to turn to _in love_ , he was ready for that.

If not, it would just stay friend love. Which was of no less value than in love, just a little different.

He turned the corner into her hall. Inhaled the scent of the flowers he held in front of him. God, his hands were shaking.

He looked up.

Her door was open.

That was odd.

His brain told him to stop, but his body kept moving forward.

He stepped inside the room.

This wasn’t right.

He stepped back out. Glanced around. Yes, this was the right hall. But…

He stepped back in.

The pink curtains had been taken down. Everything pink, actually. The streamers and glittery washi tape on the TV.

The bed was empty.

The IV stand beside it, unused.  
The monitor blank. Unplugged.

The keyboard was sitting on the ground, its stand folded beside it.

What was going on?

There were voices outside. He stepped to the side and sat down on the little white couch. Thank goodness, that was still here. If it hadn’t been—

“What are you doing in this wing?” asked a nurse. He knew her. She worked four until midnight, usually on the next hall over.

“Unfortunate, I know,” a voice Jungkook didn't know responded. “I wish I didn’t have to be here.”

“Which room?”

“Four-oh-two.”

_This room._

“Oh, god, not her.”

“It’s so sad. She was so young.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“They say she fell asleep after lunch. Passed away quietly. They attempted to revive her, but were unsuccessful.”

“Her poor mother.”

“I know. I’m getting everything packed up for her.”

The two of them stepped into the room.

The nurse gasped and the cleaning man swore as they saw Jungkook sitting there. Sitting there in his jeans and converse and baseball jersey, holding a bouquet of baby’s breath and forget-me-nots.

“Oh, Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” said the nurse.

He didn’t respond.

“You shouldn’t have found out like this.”

He didn’t know if he’d ever say anything again.

“Let me take you back to your room. Oh, sweetie. This is so sad. I’m so sorry.”

He could hardly hear her.

He turned and walked to the bed. No more pink comforter. Just a blank mattress, waiting for new sheets.

He smelled the flowers one more time and laid them on the pillow.

Let the nurse lady take his arm, lead him back to his room.

He waited for Hoseok and Tae and Jimin to show up in Seokjin’s truck, ready to take him back where he belonged.

Back to the real world.

Where girls like Mikyeong were too good to be true.

—end of part three—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:
> 
> 1\. I'm sorry  
> 2\. Blame the highlight reels, not me  
> 3\. Part 4: Magic Island begins next week. I'll think I'll be prefacing it with an interlude/author's note chapter, just to sum up what's gone on in the first nearly-hundred-thousand words of this story and prep for what's to come. Anyways, look forward to the continuation of TXT's story on October 17.


	23. Book 2 Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This is not a chapter. You don't have to read this. To continue with the story, hit "Next Chapter."  
> -However, this is a very *long* story, and we've reached a nice break in the storyline and, also, the word length of an average YA novel, so below you'll find details about the characters, some explanation about dates/school, and a few notes about how I'm writing the story.

Hi! ForForever42 here :) First off: I'm so glad you're still reading. This story is very important to me, and working on it was literally what got me through quarantine. It's come so far since I started handwriting it. Ah, that day... I was sitting in the Frankfurt airport, my first time in a foreign country, and I was in a haze of exhaustion and confusion and dreaming of reaching Prague that evening so I could fall asleep, since I'm incapable of sleeping on planes. And I decided--  
_Why not write my theories about the Bangtan Universe as a fanfiction?_  
...And the rest is history.

Some Facts about the Universe:

-YEAR 22: In the Bangtan Universe, the main events of the story seem to happen in "Year 22," or, the year Seokjin, the protagonist in most of the MV's/the Save Me webtoon, turns 22, Korean age. I have kept this system of marking the years on my timeline, despite some other changes I've made as noted later.

-CHARACTER AGES: I use international ages for all of the characters. I considered using Korean ages, but as an American, it was just too confusing for me to try to calculate everything. This links in with it being Year 22 for the main plot of the story: Seokjin's 21st (internation age) birthday is December 4th of Year 22. So, he's 22 by Korean age, while still being 20 internationally for most of "Year 22."

-THE SCHOOL YEAR: Aaaaand I know now that the Korean school year is very different from the American school year, but I didn't when I started writing, so despite the fact that this story is set in Seoul, the school year runs from September-June. I also refer to their grades as Freshman (9th), Sophomore (10th), Junior (11th) and Senior (12th). Middle school is 7th-9th grade and high school is 10th-12th, and for the sake of plot convenience, for both the Bangtan Boys and TXT, the middle schools the younger characters went to are located adjacent to the high schools the older characters attended.

-IF NONE OF THIS MAKES SENSE: That's okay :P It doesn't really matter. Just hit that "next chapter" and keep reading. But I just wanted to explain some things that might have seemed weird or confusing as you were going through the story.

Character summaries:

BTS:  
-Jeon Jungkook. Age 17 as of April 11th, Year 22. His birthday isn't defined yet, but is probably sometime in January in this universe. He purposefully sold his soul to save his friends. In exchange, he will die and be forgotten. He thought he was going to die when he was hit by a truck, but he didn't. He met a girl named Mikyeong as he was recovering. He had just gotten the courage to go tell her that he loved her, when she died from the heart condition that had kept her in the hospital for several years.

-Kim Taehyung: Age 17 as of April 11th, Year 22. His birthday is September 21st in this universe. After being legally freed from his abusive father, Taehyung has found himself living with Seokjin. Taehyung is plagued by anxiety and panic attacks, and also the vague memory of killing not just his father, but also Seokjin, in a previous life, or dream, or something. He knows there's something up with their friend group, something not-quite-natural, and he's trying his hardest to figure out what it is.

-Park Jimin: Age 18 as of April 11, Year 22. His birthday is??? Probably sometime in the fall. Might as well be his actual birthday, October 13, but I reserve the right to change that if the plot demands it later. He has seizures that seem to be triggered by blood, and something that happened when he was a kid that he can't quite remember. He spent two years in the hospital, but now lives with Hoseok and is doing really well. Except for, of course, one co-worker at his restaurant job that wants to make his life miserable...

-Kim Namjoon: Age 19 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday undefined as of yet. Namjoon spent several months living in a container in a train yard while he sent every penny he made to his mother, who was caring for his sick father in the countryside. Desperate to get out of his situation and be of use to those he loves, Namjoon made a deal with the devil: trading his soul for knowledge, which he believes will get him out. The price was, that this knowledge could very well hurt his friends, but that doesn't really matter--because Namjoon is going to die before that happens. A few months after making the deal, Namjoon gets offered a scholarship to college that could only have come to him by supernatural means. He gives his container house in the train yard to a boy who seems far too young to be living on his own.

-Jung Hoseok: Age 19 as of April 11, Year 22. His birthday is June 13. Hoseok may have said no to the actual devil, but he can't stay still or his inner demons will come for him. His narcolepsy seems a thing of the past, but that doesn't mean it won't strike again. He dances in order to escape. He has a store of prescription drugs that weren't prescribed to him, but he doesn't take them (not unless he really needs them, that is). Sleeping pills, however... those aren't so bad. Right? He's fine. He saved Taehyung and he saved Jimin and he saved Jungkook, he can definitely take care of himself. Also, he's not sure what's going on between him and his dance partner. Does Jae see him as more than a friend, or is he just delusional?

-Min Yoongi: Age 20 as of April 11, Year 22. His birthday may as well be March 9?? Could change, though. He's a mess. He knows he sold his soul, and he's convinced that anything he loves that isn't music will burn. It's his fault that Jungkook was in the accident. He has to stay away from them all if they have any hope of happiness.

-Kim Seokjin: Age 20 as of April 11, Year 22. His birthday is December 4. He also blames himself for Jungkook's accident. His family is incredibly rich. His mother designed security systems before her death. His father wants him to go back to Stanford, but Seokjin wants to transfer to a university in Korea. Right now, he's compromising by taking online classes. Also, Taehyung moved in to his house, which isn't such a bad thing. Seokjin wants nothing more than for Taehyung to be happy, and to forget about what he did in the previous timelines.

TXT:  
-Kai Kamal Huening: Age 14 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday: sometime in August. His parents died in a car wreck when he was little, and though the official report says it was drunk driving, he knows that a monster pushed their car off the road. Kai is fully human, but somehow managed to create wings for himself, which allow him to pass into the Midworld with his friends. No one knows how or why he was able to do this.

-Kang Taehyun: Age 14 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday: Probably sometime in May or June. Undefined in the plot. He is a creature of the Midworld born as a human, and his power is shown through his eyes: one of them is black. He hides this by wearing sunglasses, but in blocking his supernatural eye, his human eye becomes blind. Unlike Soobin and Beomgyu, this manifestation of his power does not fade after spending time in the Midworld. His friends don't know, but he doesn't live with his parents. He lives in the train yard, and struggles to pretend that everything is normal.

-Choi Beomgyu: Age 16 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday: Probably February, like the real Beomgyu? It hasn't become important yet in the plot. As a creature of the Midworld, his gift is in his instincts. He knows when bad things are going to happen. This manifests through protective spines on his back and shoulder. In the human world, his power causes pain and anxiety, but in the Midworld, he feels at peace. 

-Choi Soobin: Age 17 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday: Probably sometime in April, honestly. But the exact date hasn't come up. His Midworld gift is his hearing, but in the human world, it's nearly overwhelming. However, trips to the Midworld control the pain, and it isn't often that his power manifests in his ears physically changing. He reads and studies almost continuously, and desperately wants to know not just what is happening to him and his friends, but why.

-Choi Yeonjun: Age 17 as of April 11, Year 22. Birthday: Early spring. He is the literal heir of Death. The boy Chosen to be King of the Underworld. But he isn't the first: there were many before him, all killed by the False Death or his underlings before they could grow into their throne. Despite his coming superhuman power, which manifests through antlers on his head, he is still fully human. He is the boy who should be Death, but he is still a boy.

Okay, now that that's done, I'm off to post Part 4, Chapter 1! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to comment. Comments give me life.

I want to thank peachyooniie for reading and commenting on like every single chapter since I started posting last April. Thanks for sticking around for so long, and I hope you enjoy what comes next :)

Also special thanks to Becca, my IRL friend who beta reads all of these and helps me with plot and character. 

I'll probably write another of these after I finish posting Part 6 (approximately 90,000 more words from now). Until then, thanks for reading!

-ForForever42.


	24. Magic Island: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to TXT!!! I love part 4 and I hope you will, too. 
> 
> Note: I know Celcius is the measurement of temperature in most of the world (and honestly, it makes so much more sense), but as an American, I only understand Farenheit, so that's what I use in the story :P

Part 4  
Magic Island

_My only friend was the man in the moon,  
And even sometimes he would go away too._  
Lost Boy, Ruth B.

Chapter One

Soobin had thought people were either lying or delusional when they said it was _quiet_. Quiet was impossible. Movement was sound, and this world was always moving, moving, moving. He heard it. Humans didn’t stop moving unless they were dead, and then other moving things went to work on them. The noise never ceased.

The Midworld moved, of course. But it did not move on the same frequency, with the same desperation that the Overworld did. Probably because of the immortality. 

When death is not inevitable, the fight to keep living is not so loud.

This was not to say Midworlders could not be killed. They could. But with the step from the Wood Between The Worlds to the Underworld being as slight as it was, it took a lot more (or a lot less) to send you there. And did you stay? Was death even permanent for someone like Soobin? Did his humanity change anything?

The books he was reading did not answer that clearly.

After rescuing Yeonjun, after spending those hours in the Woods, the Noise of this world had become tolerable. He’d begun going into the Woods weekly to use the fullness of his ability in the twilight of that place. Using his unearthly power gave his human form the ability to seem a little more human. He still heard everything, and it was still mildly annoying, but not in the nerve-grating, unbearable sense it had been before.

Still, just because he didn’t feel he’d die if he didn’t get to the library by himself every day, didn’t mean it was quiet.

As life continued, so did noise.

The feeling he had right now, though—

Sitting in a near-empty corner of Ttuukseom Park—

It was not silent, but he felt a sort of sweet peace around him. He didn’t want to leave and be by himself.

Was this what “quiet” meant?

The place was empty, besides them, because it was well-hidden. Gateways always were, and just within that shrub was a narrow and prickly Gate that would take you to the Woods.

Beomgyu had been the first to suggest coming here. Said he’d found this corner while his parents had been enjoying the chaos of the park proper. 

Now, Beomgyu was dozing, his back against an ancient tree. Kai was leaning against his shoulder, and Mia’s head was in Beomgyu’s lap. 

Mia was the only of the trio not sleeping, but her blinks were becoming slower and slower as the shadow of the tree stretched out beyond them. She was holding a book against her chest. It was some teen romance manga the three of them had been reading together before the spell of the afternoon took them.

Taehyun’s sunglasses were pushed up on his forehead. His black eye shone for the world to see, and his human one focused on Kai’s latest book of drawings. He had his own notebook, and was copying some of the monster sketches while making his own notes.

Yeonjun was lying on his back, staring up at the clouds, obsessively cracking his knuckles every few minutes. After each knuckle-cracking session, he’d ask a question.

This time:

“Why is the sky blue?” 

Soobin explained the science of it, as best he could in the thirty seconds he had before Yeonjun’s attention span faded.

“The sky in the Midworld isn’t blue,” Yeonjun countered, “Does that mean there’s no science there?”

Soobin did not want to explain this, as he didn’t fully grasp the reason why himself. So he grumbled something about how Yeonjun should shut up and leave him in peace, but he was sure to say it in a way that wasn’t mean. That let Yeonjun know they were still friends.

(He often looked back at his behavior before they’d come together again and shuddered. Sure, the noise had been bad, but was that any excuse for how he’d acted? Towards Mia, a sweet little freshman with a crush? Towards Yeonjun, his only friend?)

Yeonjun popped his knuckles again, and, after a few minutes, rolled over to see what Taehyun was up to.

“Kai’s quite the artist,” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” Taehyun replied.

“That monster’s scary.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“But look at those fangs!”

“So having fangs means you’re evil?”

“Not necessarily. But it means you look evil.”

“This monster could be someone’s grandma, for all we know.” 

“Who makes cookies for all the neighborhood monster children!” 

“Exactly!”

Soobin smiled. 

This amount of noise would usually make him want to yell at someone and run. But not today.

He could hear their breathing. Their heartbeat. The slight rustle of braids against denim as Mia shifted her head on Beomgyu’s leg. The scrape of a pencil against cheap paper as Taehyun continued to take notes.

He found he didn’t mind it.

Not one bit.

In fact, it might even be preferable to the library, alone with his books. He liked these people. Even the human ones. The noise of their living wasn’t horrific.

Another half hour passed. He read further in his book. Taehyun was the only other one awake, and Soobin was sure it was only because he wanted to take advantage of every minute he could see without fear of being caught. 

A strange shiver ran over him, whenever his eyes fell on Yeonjun, who now lay still in the grass. One arm blocked the sun from his eyes, his other hand resting on his stomach. It was like Soobin had seen this exact scene before, just not exactly.

Was it a dream he’d had once?

Soobin pushed the thought from him mind. He considered closing his eyes himself, just for a moment, to feel the sun and the safety and disappear into darkness.

Then Mia’s breathing changed. Her heartbeat sped up. He glanced at her over the top of his book.

She wasn’t having a nightmare.

She was awake.

She was… waiting for something?

He watched her.

Not once did she glance towards him.

Ever so slowly, so she wouldn’t wake Beomgyu, she slid her hand into the front pocket of her shorts. She pulled out a folded piece of paper. Once it was fully revealed, and she couldn’t turn back, she rapidly slid it inside the manga volume she held.

She closed her eyes again as if nothing had happened, but her heart was still speeding and he could see her hands trembling.

Stranger still, once Beomgyu woke up, she slipped the book into Kai’s open messenger bag, stuffing it down as far as she could while Beomgyu shook Kai into wakefulness.

That was when she made eye contact with Soobin.

She knew that he’d seen.

And instead of glaring, or sighing, she just turned away.

##

Soobin couldn’t stop thinking about it, and he wasn’t sure why. It was none of his business. He mostly thought the note was probably a love letter. She seemed to be the romantic sort. Heck, she’d declared her undying love to him a few months ago, and they hadn’t even known each other.

It was perfectly reasonable that she’d confessed her obvious feelings for Kai in a secret letter.

But…

Her _reaction_.

She’d been on the verge of tears until they split up. No one else noticed, but he could hear it in her every breath.

Besides, she was straightforward. She’d surely just tell Kai if she liked him. It was possible Soobin’s reaction on Valentine’s day had scarred her from declarations of love for life… but he doubted it.

If not a love letter, what was it?

He felt a twinge of guilt, thinking back. He hadn’t properly apologized to her yet for how he’d yelled at her. He still wasn’t romantically interested in her—she was just a kid, after all—but there was no excuse for the manner of his rejection.

He called her.

She didn’t pick up.

Soobin flopped back on his bed, taking comfort in the familiar squeak of the mattress springs. He wondered how long it would take Kai to go through his bag, now that there were all on summer break. Might not touch it until school started again, and even then, he might just pile things for the new semester on top. He probably wouldn’t open the manga, even if he found it, until he, Beomgyu, and Mia were all three together again…

So why the hell had she tucked that letter in there?

He called Kai.

“Soobin, hey.”

Now what?

“Soobin? You there?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

The fuzziness of the connection grated on his nerves. He needed to go back to the Woods. He pulled the phone from his ear, and reached his thumb towards the red button.

No.

He hit speakerphone instead.

“This is going to sound really strange,” Soobin said, “But you know that manga you were reading yesterday? At the park?”

“Yeah. It’s one of Mia’s favorites.”

“She put something between the pages.”

“Like a bookmark?”

“No. Like a note.”

“Why’d she do that? It’s her book.”

“She put it in your bag.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. And she was really nervous while she was doing it.”

He heard Kai pull his bag out of the closet. He unlatched it and dug around. “Ah, yes, here it is. And…” He unfolded the paper.

His breath hitched.

“What’s it say?” Soobin asked, “No, sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Umm,” Kai said, “I think I should.”

“Then do it.”

“She’s leaving.”

“What?”

This was not expected, nor was the feeling of unsteadiness that came into Soobin’s chest.

“Just for the summer. She’s going to visit her mom’s family. In Seattle. She didn’t know how to tell us… so she just didn’t.”

The hollowness in Kai’s voice overtook all the other noise.

“When’s she leaving?” Soobin asked.

“Today,” Kai said.

“Wait a minute,” Soobin said. He scrambled over to his desk and opened his laptop. “Don’t give in to despair just yet.”

Kai laughed, a little life coming back into his tone. “Despair?”

“Isn’t that an accurate word for how you’re feeling?”

“I’ve just never heard anyone actually use it in a sentence.”

“Seattle, right?” Soobin said, “Probably went for a direct flight, no one wants to go through California or Texas if they don’t have to… aha, here! Drat. Left early this morning… but…” he clicked around a bit more, “Wait just a second.”

“What are you doing?”

“One flight left early this morning, but there’s another leaving at 5. If you leave now, you might catch her before she goes through security.”

“What? Go to Incheon?”

“Yeah!”

“My aunt isn’t home.”

“You have ten bucks?”

“Yeah, but”—

“Take the metro. I’ll send you exact directions.”

“But I’ve never”—

“Come on, Huening Kai! Don’t you want to kiss”—

“Soobin!”  
“Okay, okay, _hug_ your girl goodbye before she leaves for the summer?”

“She’s not my girl,” Kai said, “But…”

“You want to say goodbye.”

“Do you think she wants me to?”

“Grab your cash and start running! I’ll convince you on the way.”

Drawers opened and closed. The money rustled as Kai shoved it in his pocket. The lock beeped as it closed behind him. Kai’s feet thumped down the stairs of his building.

In the four minutes it took Kai to get to the metro station, Soobin explained the situation with Mia. Of course, there was a small chance she really didn’t want to see him. But the odds were much higher that she, lover of both romance manga and conspiracy theories, would be so happy to see Kai waiting for her that it would overtake all sadness she felt at saying goodbye.

“Metro’s here,” Kai gasped, “Gotta go.”

He hung up before Soobin could say goodbye.

##

Kai stepped off the final metro and sprinted towards the shuttle line that would take him to the airport. He glanced down at his phone to make sure he had the right line, and when he looked up—

A scream caught in his throat as he skittered to the side. He crashed into a man in a business suit, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Kai said.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man said, among other things, as he picked himself up and walked onto the shuttle.

Kai looked back at what had scared him.

It couldn’t be an illusion, because it was still there. Not just a momentary vision. It continued, for seconds, as he stared at it.

A monster clung to the side of the signpost. It was nearly like one he’d drawn before, only smaller, and with only fifty legs, not hundreds. It was bone-white in color, with sharp blue lines along the length of its segmented body. Spine-like fangs protruded from its mouth, dripping with venom.

It stared straight at him.

People passed between them, getting on the shuttle.

No one else saw it.

No one but him.

The monster grinned, as if it knew this. As if it was allowing Kai to see it, while hiding from the general population.

That was probably exactly what was happening.

No amount of screaming would alert these people to the danger in their midst. Because the danger—

Well—

The danger didn’t want to be seen by them.

Kai kept his eyes fixed on it and walked backwards onto the shuttle. He squashed into the crowds already packed in.

He wasn’t positive it was real. This was a stressful situation for him, running from his house to the airport. Maybe it was too much for his mind, and he’d created the monster in his head.

But if it was real—and this seemed more likely—he didn’t think it would attack him in the middle of a crowd like this. It wouldn’t want to reveal itself, and the fact of monsters, to hundreds of people outside Incheon International Airport.

The shuttle pulled away.

He was safe.

He was also running later than Soobin had anticipated. Even if the Song family was on this later flight, they were probably through security already. Every call he’d attempted to make to Mia had gone straight through to voicemail. She was probably somewhere over the Pacific right now. Probably sleeping. Maybe watching a movie.

He ran into the terminal and glanced through the baggage check line. No girls with long blonde hair. He ran towards the security line. Nothing.

Wait.

Right there, not twenty feet from him.

She was wearing a purple beret, and her family was nearly to the agent at the beginning of the line.

“Mia!” he shouted.

She turned, and he saw a smile light up her face a moment before he swept her into a hug.

He hadn’t meant to be so dramatic as to actually lift her into the air and spin her around. As soon as her feet were on the ground again, he tried to let go, but she clung to him.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“Why are you sorry?” Kai asked, and now, she let him pull back. 

She wouldn’t look up at him.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“For what?”

“For not telling you.”

This was a lot to take in. Was he mad? He really didn’t know what he was feeling. “Umm, maybe a little?” he said, “But it’s okay, because I made it here to say goodbye. You aren’t mad I came, right?”

She still wouldn’t look at him. He saw the tears dripping off her cheeks.

“Don’t be sad,” he said, hugging her again. “It’s only a few months. We’ll figure out the time difference and text every day.”

She nodded against his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you a lot,” he said. “Everyone else will, too. We’ve gotten really used to you.”

She nodded again.

“But I’ll explain it all to them,” he said, “Even though I don’t really understand. Why’d you think it would be better to not tell us?”

“I don’t know,” she said, face still pressed against his shirt. “I’ve never said goodbye to my friends before.”

It struck Kai that he never had, either.

“It’s just for now,” he said. “Just for a little while. We’re still together, even if we’re not, if you know what I mean?”

“But what if…”

She stopped.

There was a weight in those syllables, and he didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t press further, since her parents were just a few steps away.

“Mia,” said her mother, softly, “I’m sorry, but we really need to go or we’ll miss our flight.”

“One more second.” She hugged Kai even tighter. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” she said.

This time, Kai couldn’t answer. He just nodded, his cheek pressed against her beret.

She pushed back from him. Her glasses were all smudged, and she smiled.

He smiled back.

She went with her parents into the security line. Just before she turned the corner out of his sight, she looked over her shoulder and waved at him.

“Until tomorrow!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure she heard.

He retraced his steps. Took the shuttle back to the metro station.

The lamppost was just a lamppost. No monster anymore.

He shivered at the memory as he hopped on the metro.

His phone buzzed.

Mia: _finally found our gate. still have twenty minutes before boarding._

Kai: _you know what movie you’re gonna watch?_

Mia: _not sure. maybe they’ll have some documentaries._

Kai: _something about aliens?_

She sent back a winking emoji.

Kai: _What were you going to say? Back in line, but you didn’t want your parents to hear?_

Mia: _Nothing important._

Kai: _come on. you can tell me._

Mia: _its dumb. but what if something terrible happens and you die before I get back? which i know isnt gonna happen but sometimes my brain thinks up the worst things you know?_

Kai: _its cause you watch so many conspiracy vids_

Mia: _the truth is out there!!!!_

She sent a bunch of alien emojis, and he sent her a laughing face.

He shivered. The image of the monster came back to him. The monster that only hadn’t hurt him because there had been people all around.

But when he got to his station—

Walked down his street—

What if there was no one around?

What if it jumped him, and tore at him with those horrible fangs?

What did it mean that he’d seen it at all?

His aunt was at a wedding until late and his uncle would likely not be home until midnight.

Who else could he ask to help him?

Beomgyu wasn’t always allowed to leave his house and Taehyun was mostly blind. Soobin had already helped Kai enough today.

Kai: _hey yeonjun, you busy?_

Yeonjun sent a laughing-crying emoji, followed by: _it’s summer break. what the hell would i be doing?_

Kai: think you could meet me at the metro station near my house?

Yeonjun: please. i’m so bored i want to die. heading over now.

Kai was relieved for a moment. Yeonjun was coming. Yeonjun had saved him from Hyunjin, and surely the two of them could stand up to a monster, if it happened to come for them.

But… what it they couldn’t?

What if the monster was even stronger than it looked?

What if Yeonjun got hit by a car crossing the street, like that high school kid a few weeks ago?

What if it was his fault Yeonjun was killed before he could fulfill his destiny?

He pulled his phone out to text Yeonjun back. To tell him not to come. But his hands were so shaky he couldn’t type in the passcode.

##

Yeonjun waited outside the station for a while, but after three loads of people spilled out onto the streets with no Kai, he descended the steps.

Kai hadn’t said how far away he was. Still, as another train arrived and emptied, Yeonjun felt his heart crawling up into his throat.

He texted Soobin.

Yeonjun: _you know why kai was out today?_

Soobin: _Long story but he had to go say goodbye to Mia at the airport._

Yeonjun: _the hell?!?_

Soobin: _I said long story._

Yeonjun: _you heard from him?_

Soobin: _Not since he got there._

Yeonjun: _he asked me to meet him at the station by his house but he’s not here yet._

Soobin typed something, stopped, and then typed some more. Yeonjun glanced up as another train pulled and emptied with no sign of Kai.

Soobin: _He won’t respond to my texts. Should we be worried?_

Yeonjun: _why the hell did he go all the way to incheon by himself?_

Soobin didn’t reply for a minutes.

Yeonjun: _you told him to, didn’t you?_

Soobin: _If you knew the whole story you’d understand. He needed to say goodbye to her and she needed him to._

Yeonjun: _well what if he got lost?_

Soobin: _I gave him precise instructions._

Yeonjun: _kidnapped? murdered?_

Another train.

No Kai.

Yeonjun’s phone rang, with Soobin’s picture on the screen.

“You’re a fricking idiot,” Yeonjun said as he picked up.

“You need to calm down,” Soobin snapped back.

“You’re the one who sent a sheltered fourteen-year-old with mental health issues all the way to the fricking airport by his fricking self!”

Soobin didn’t reply.

“So? You have any defense for that?”

“No,” Soobin said, quiet.

“So when”—

Another train pulled in, and Yeonjun saw a boy of Kai’s size wearing Kai’s favorite hoodie in the seat against the window.

“I see him,” Yeonjun said, relief washing over him. 

“Thank goodness,” Soobin said.

“I shouldn’t have”—

“Don’t,” Soobin interrupted. “Just go see if he’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

Soobin hung up.

The crowd came off the train.

Kai did not.

Yeonjun jogged down the length of the train, towards where Kai sat, but the kid didn’t move.

He jumped through the doors of the right car just as they slid shut.

The train sped forward, and he nearly fell as he stumbled towards his friend. “Kai, hey,” he said, grabbing a handle and leaning down towards him.

“Go away,” Kai said. His face was white and his eyes were staring straight ahead, “You have to go away, Yeonjun. I shouldn’t, shouldn’t have asked, I…”

“Shut up,” Yeonjun said, worry flooding back, “Are you hurt?”

“The monsters are out there,” Kai whispered in response.

Yeonjun suppressed a shiver and sat down next to Kai. “Let’s just get off at the next stop,” he said, “We’ll get you home from there, okay?”

“No,” Kai said, shrinking away from Yeonjun. “We’re not strong enough. I’m not strong enough. They’re going to kill you and it will be all my fault, all my fault, all my”—

“Shut up and look at me,” Yeonjun said again, but Kai wouldn’t. The overhead speaker said they were coming into the next station. Yeonjun needed Kai to focus. He reached for Kai’s face and turned it towards him.

Kai’s forehead was hot.

Was he sick?

“You have to go home,” Yeonjun said, firmly, staring into the younger boy’s frightened eyes.

He took Kai by the shoulders, and he didn’t resist. Thankfully he could walk. Yeonjun was pretty sure he could carry the kid if he had to, but he would rather not have to find out.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kai whimpered, “I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to see her. But I…”

“Shut up,” Yeonjun said again, softly, “We’re both going to be fine. You can tell me all about it once we’re inside.”

He knew Kai wasn’t convinced, but he also didn’t seem strong enough to fight. Yeonjun put his arm around Kai’s shoulders and guided him towards his home.

##

Yeonjun poured the hot soup from the pot into two bowls and carried it over to the living room. Kai was still scribbling in his sketchbook.

He felt Kai’s forehead. “You’re still hot. You sure we shouldn’t call your aunt?”

“She’s busy,” Kai said, “It’s barely a fever at all, and I took the medicine. I’ll be fine.”

Yeonjun was pretty sure that was the case. The thermometer had only read 99 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Here,” Kai said, “This is what it looked like.”

“Eat, before it gets cold,” he said, and Kai started in on the soup.

Yeonjun picked up the sketchpad.

The image was scarier than any Kai had drawn before. The lines were very loose and light, but the form of the creature was very real, from its legs to its segmented body to the fangs that appeared to be dripping with venom.

“And it was just… there?” Yeonjun asked, “In the middle of the crowd?”

“It was clinging onto the lamppost. Its legs were stuck to it, and it was just casually watching everyone. But I was the only person who saw it.”

Yeonjun nodded. He set down the sketchbook and picked up his own bowl of soup.

“Do you think I was hallucinating?” Kai asked.

“Do you?” Yeonjun responded.

“I wish I was,” Kai said, letting his spoon splash back into the bowl. He hugged his blanket up to his chin. “I wish I was.”

“Why?” Yeonjun asked.

“Because, if I’m crazy, I’m the only one who gets hurt. But if I’m not crazy, if these things are real, then, well, they can hurt other people. Like you. If the monsters are in our world, this world, the human world, how are we supposed to keep you safe from them? If that evil cat thing wants you dead so badly, it shouldn’t be so hard for him to have you killed. Right? Because you still don’t have the power yet. You’re still just a kid, and they’re monsters, with claws and fangs.”

That was a lot to have on your mind. No wonder Kai was feeling so ill. Especially after his dramatic race to say goodbye to Mia, as Yeonjun had made him recount before he’d let him say anything about monsters.

“I’ve been reading up on stuff,” Yeonjun said.

“You? Reading stuff?”

“Soobin won’t tell me anything unless I make an effort myself,” Yeonjun said, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I’m older than him, but he thinks he’s my teacher or something.”

“What are you reading?”

“A weird combination of fun storybooks and boring old science textbooks that make absolutely no sense until I make Soobin draw stuff out on his chalkboard.”

“You make him? I didn’t think anyone could make him do anything.”

“Aww, it’s easy,” Yeonjun said, “Now that the noise doesn’t bother him so much. I just say”—and here he used his best sad voice—“‘Soobinie, I can’t understand it! It’s too much! Can you pleeeeeease show me? You’re so much smarter than me!’”

Kai laughed at that and flopped back against the arm of the couch. “No way.”

“Yes! You should see him! I mean, of course he complains about it. But he does it. And the thing is, he loves it! Such a nerd.”

“So with all your newfound knowledge,” Kai said, “What do you think about the monster I saw?”

Yeonjun looked at the kid lounging next to him. This kid who would rather be insane than for the monsters he saw to be real.

“It’s nothing,” Yeonjun said.

“Don’t treat me like a baby,” Kai said, sitting up and glaring.

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. If I wasn’t sick right now, I know you’d run off to Soobin’s library and you two would have a secret meeting about all sorts of dangerous stuff you think is too scary for us younger ones.”

“We don’t”—

“Yes, you do,” Kai said. “You do. All the time.”

“We”—

He thought over the last few weeks.

They did meet alone, the two eldest of them. Very often. Reading and discussing the dark and scary details of what it meant to be the heir to Death. To be a monster living amongst men. To be a boy who sneaked his way into Faerieland.

“Tell me what you really think,” Kai said. “I’m the one who saw that monster today. I want to know what it means.”

Yeonjun’s mouth went dry as he thought about it. As he thought of how to say it, without scaring the kid.

“First,” he started, “It’s probably nothing. You don’t have to be scared. It’s not going to attack you out in the open.”

“What about you?”

“That’s really complicated, and I don’t really understand it, but according to Soobin, I don’t have to be very scared of monsters.”

He did not add that Soobin thought he had to be very afraid of men.

“So, what’s it mean? Why was it there?”

“There’s only one reason I can think of,” Yeonjun said.

Kai sat up again, and stared at him with those innocent eyes.

“The monster wanted you to know that it’s watching.”

##

The sound of the lock beeping woke Yeonjun. The menu of the Captain America DVD was playing on loop on the television, and Kai was curled up against him, asleep.

He knew that the monsters wouldn’t come in through the front door, but he still tightened his arm around Kai as the door creaked open.

Mr. Cho, Kai’s uncle, stepped inside.

When he saw Yeonjun staring at him from the couch, he jumped a little. “Yeonjun, isn’t it?” he whispered. “I didn’t know Kai was inviting friends over today.” He glanced over the coffee table, with the bowls of congealed soup, the medicine bottle, the thermometer, and—Yeonjun cursed himself for not closing the notebook—the drawing of the monster.

“He wasn’t feeling good,” Yeonjun said, before Mr. Cho could ask anything. It wasn’t a lie. “He didn’t want to disturb you or Mrs. Cho in your work, so he called me instead.”

Mr. Cho nodded. “Did you mind coming?”

“I was bored out of my brains. Hanging out with Kai was much better than sitting around watching YouTube on my own.”

Mr. Cho loosened his tie and took off his jacket. “You can’t be comfortable.”

Yeonjun couldn’t deny that. His arm was asleep and he knew he’d have a sore neck tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. In fact, with another glance at the monstrous drawing on the coffee table, he knew he’d sleep better with his arms around Kai than not. The scenario of the monster breaking through the window, killing Kai, and making it look like a suicide had run through his head through the entire first half of the movie.

But there was no not-weird way to explain this to Kai’s uncle, so he let the man gently lift Kai off of him so he could slip out.

“Don’t leave, Yeonjun,” Kai muttered, his eyes fluttering open. “Dangerous. Please.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yeonjun said, “Go back to sleep.”

Kai nodded and hugged the blanket under his chin. He was gone again in a moment.

Yeonjun glanced over at Mr. Cho. He was holding the sketchbook, looking at the new drawing with concern. 

“Would you mind having a drink with me?” Mr. Cho asked. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

##

Yeonjun thought, for just a moment, that maybe Mr. Cho was going to actually give him a drink. But no: the man poured a glass of wine for himself, and gave Yeonjun a soda. 

“First off, you don’t have to stay the night here, just because he asked you to.” 

“I know,” Yeonjun said, “But I think I will, if you don’t mind. It’s really late, and I already told my mother I’m spending the night.”

“Kai’s a sweet kid,” Mr. Cho said.

Yeonjun nodded.

“He took his parent’s death very hard,” Mr. Cho said, “Terrible, everything that’s happened to him. He had a hard time making friends back in Busan.”

“I know,” Yeonjun said, “He didn’t deserve a bit of it.” 

Mr. Cho glanced at him, and Yeonjun couldn’t interpret what the glance meant.

“You don’t encourage him in his belief in monsters?” His tone shifted a little.

“No way,” Yeonjun said, shrugging, “We all know they aren’t real. But his art style is awesome. I think he could draw a sick Webtoon, if he wanted.”

“How did you become friends with my nephew?” His voice was almost… accusatory?

“School bully was picking on him,” Yeonjun said. This was not the time for total lies. He didn’t know much about Kai’s aunt and uncle, except that they seemed very protective over their nephew. The last thing he needed was for them to decide he wasn’t a good friend. “I stepped in. Showed that jerk a thing or two, and, well, that’s how it started.”

Mr. Cho sipped his wine and sat back. “That was very nice of you, to defend a younger kid. Kai says you live with just your mother. She must be proud of you.”

Yeonjun’s face flushed a little. “I don’t know about that.”

“And we are very grateful that you’ve been looking out for Kai. That he has a handful of friends now. He really seems to fit in here.”

“He does,” Yeonjun said, “He really does.”

Mr. Cho nodded in an understanding way, but something felt off.

Yeonjun should have just let it pass, but…

“We’re not just his friends cause we’re nice people,” Yeonjun said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know if this is what you’re implying, but it seems like you think Kai, well, the fact that he sees things that aren’t real means that anyone who’s his friend is obviously taking a hit to their own social lives. I’m not. Neither are the rest of us. Kai’s just as much a full member of our group as anything. He’s smart and sweet and a great artist and he”—

Yeonjun stopped, not sure if he should go any further.

“He what?” asked Mr. Cho.

“Well, we weren’t really friends before,” Yeonjun said, “The rest of us. Sure, we knew each other. Soobin, and Taehyun, and Beomgyu and me. But we never had that sort of, I don’t know, spark, or glue, or whatever, that kept us together. Not until Kai showed up.”

“Is this the truth?” Mr. Cho said, and Yeonjun knew that the man was aware he hadn’t been totally honest earlier.

“The most true thing I’ve told you,” Yeonjun said. “Kai changed everything. I’m not sure what would have happened to us, if he wasn’t there.”

Yeonjun was shocked at the emotion he felt, saying that. Mr. Cho seemed to have heard it in his voice, because he gave Yeonjun a chance to collect himself before saying anything else.

“I had friends like that, once,” Mr. Cho said. “Close. Real. Pulled together by fate, it seemed. We’re not as close today, because the years took us apart, but they are still always there for me, and I for them. And honestly, I couldn’t want anything more for Kai, than a friend like you seem to be. That girl, Mia, too. She’s certainly something.”

“That she is,” Yeonjun said, smiling.

He’d let Kai tell them about Mia’s sudden departure.

“Well, if you’re staying the night, I’ll go get some blankets for the other couch. Unless you’d be more comfortable in Kai’s bed?”

“No, I’ll sleep out here. I don’t want him to wake up and think I left.”

“Just don’t give in to him too much,” Mr. Cho said, “Kid can stand on his own two feet.”

“He can, sure,” Yeonjun said, “But what about me?”

Mr. Cho smiled at that, accepting it as a joke, like Yeonjun had hoped.

The man brought out blankets and a pillow, and Yeonjun got comfortable on the other couch, lying back so he could see both Kai and the curtained windows behind him.

He’d told Mr. Cho a lot of half truths. The biggest one being that he didn’t know where he’d be if he’d never met Kai.

He did know.

The wrongful Death would have cut his throat and he would have bled out on the forest floor. The only reason he was alive was because this fully human kid saw Yeonjun as he was, and Kai was not afraid.

Yeonjun would die before he’d let anything hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Look forward to Part 4, Chapter 2 next Saturday, October 24th.


	25. Magic Island: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to learn a little more about Beomgyu, don't you think?

Beomgyu had always had a very developed sense of impending doom.

It’s why he was so scared all the time. Why people could push him around, why he always gave in rather than get hurt. He wasn’t so afraid of death as he was of what came before.

And, from being so afraid, he was very good at seeing fear in others.

Ever since Mia had left, strange and sudden fears would fall over all of them. He knew why Kai was scared: he’d seen the monster in the real world. He knew why Yeonjun was scared: he’d seen what simply seeing the monster had done to Kai, and he was afraid of how badly it could hurt him if it came upon him alone. He knew why Soobin was scared: he was afraid that he was missing something in his books and readings, and that something awful would happen if he didn’t learn what it was.

But Taehyun?

There was a different kind of fear coming from him. It had very little to do with their collective safety and a whole lot to do with his own. The oldest two were so concerned with their own problems that they never noticed Taehyun’s anxiety, especially how it heightened when their group was about to part ways.

Beomgyu found it concerning, that Taehyun was the only one of them whose power didn’t disappear, even after hours in the Wood. That he still had to walk around blind most of the day. At least his sunglasses fit the season, now, with the sun beating down outside, but he shouldn’t have to wear them. He should appear normal, like the rest of them did.

Was that why Taehyun so afraid?

Beomgyu never felt like asking him out in the open. He felt as if Taehyun had the right to keep his fear a secret, if he wanted. Beomgyu didn’t tell anyone what happened at his own house.

It was very funny, though, that Taehyun didn’t have a phone. Who didn’t have a phone, in this day and age? Especially if Taehyun really lived in the neighborhood he claimed to. It was not as nice as the one Beomgyu’s family lived in, but was definitely superior to Yeonjun and Soobin’s home streets. Taehyun's parents must have the money to buy him a phone, so why didn’t they?

They’d eaten burgers today, as Kai still insisted they do, even without Mia here. Soobin and Yeonjun joined them, instead of running off to the library by themselves. Soobin had a book, of course, but Soobin wasn’t Soobin if he wasn’t trying to find out more about their curse. Taehyun ate every crumb from the fry basket. He’d get tense, almost excited, every time the voice of their favorite employee rose above the din of the restaurant.

But Hoseok didn’t offer them free fries or sodas. He was very distracted of late.

Kai’s mother showed up to drive the others home.

Beomgyu would take the bus, as always. His parents didn’t know he was out with friends. They thought he was at English class. They didn’t know he already spoke English very well, and that his English tutor didn’t care if he showed up or not as long as she still got paid.

Taehyun waited at the bus stop with Beomgyu, as he always did.

Taehyun wore the jacket to hide it, but it was obvious he was thinner than he had been. The sunglasses hid most of his face, but there was a hollowness in his cheeks that didn’t look right.

The bus came.

Beomgyu got on.

He watched as Taehyun waved to him.

At the next stop, he got off.

Started walking back towards where he’d left Taehyun.

He had to know.

And—

_Yes—_

He dodged into an electronics store and waited.

Taehyun wasn’t going down the alley he claimed he always did.

He walked the same way Beomgyu’s bus went. He passed Beomgyu, walking confidently down the sidewalk despite his blindness, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Hey, kid, can I help you?” asked the store employee.

“No, sorry,” Beomgyu said, and slid out the door.

He followed Taehyun. The sun wasn’t down quite yet. It was almost the solstice, so it was bright out until late in the evening. They hadn’t stayed until closing tonight. Yeonjun had been really weird about staying out after dark lately. Or, more accurately: about Kai being out after dark lately.

Yet if their eldest noticed Taehyun’s signs of fear or hunger, he said nothing of them.

Beomgyu stayed a good ways back from his friend. While being mostly-blind, it was possible Taehyun’s hearing was better than the average human’s. Not to the level of Soobin, of course. There was no way anyone could follow that guy without being heard. Beomgyu was pretty sure the upperclassman could recognize them all by their heartbeats.

He followed Taehyun around a few more turns, further and further from the busy streets. Taehyun was much more in danger here than Kai ever would be, Beomgyu thought. His shoulder ached at every shadow, every threatening presence, every possible hiding place.

If he didn’t get back to the Woods soon, he wouldn’t be able to keep the physical manifestation of his curse from appearing.

The road became dirt. The buildings disappeared. A train roared by on tracks not twenty feet from the path they followed.

Taehyun wouldn’t accidentally stumble onto the tracks, would he?

No.

He knew where he was going.

But what was this place?

Old train cars. Bedraggled men and women. Plywoods shelters and—

And—

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu whispered under his breath.

Taehyun opened the door of what looked like a falling-apart storage container.

He closed it behind him.

He didn’t come back out.

The sun disappeared behind the horizon.

“You lost, boy?”

Beomgyu jumped, and felt the spines pressing through his skin.

_I am not afraid._

“Umm,” he said.

It was just an old man. He was mostly bald, and leaning on a stick.

“I asked, you lost?”

Beomgyu shook his head.

“You looking for a place to stay?”

He shook his head again.

“Then you best be moving on.”

Yes. Yes, he best be. This was no place for him. He could feel blood running down his arm. He hoped it wouldn’t soak through his shirt.

But then he stopped.

Turned.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Yeah?” The old man looked at him again.

“Umm, that, umm, container? Over there?” He pointed to where Taehyun had disappeared.

“Can’t move into that one,” said the old man.

“I don’t want to,” Beomgyu said, “But I saw a kid go in there. Just a bit ago.”

“And?”

“Does he…”

Could he really ask it?

“Does he live there?” he tried to keep the revulsion out of his voice, but it didn’t work.

The old man laughed so hard he bent double. Beomgyu remained frozen in place. The blood was definitely soaking through his shirt, but it was too dark for the man to notice.

“You know that kid?” the man asked.

Beomgyu nodded.

“That container is a luxury apartment compared to his old spot. Slept under a piece of plywood for a near on three months, he did.”

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu whispered.

“Now get along,” the man said, “Before your mommy misses you.”

Beomgyu turned and ran. His shoes skidded through the dirt and gravel until he made it to real streets again. By the time he jumped on the bus, the air felt cold and useless rushing into his lungs. The few other people on the bus looked at him strangely as he stumbled to the back.

His arm was sticky.

God.

This wasn’t good.

He’d have to try and sneak in.

Hope his parents didn’t see. Didn’t ask.

Didn’t know.

Because if they knew…

Calm. Down.

_Calm. Down._

They reached his stop.

He walked up the street. Punched in the code on the gate. Walked up to the door. Punched in the code there.

His parents were in the living room, watching something on the television.

“That you, Beomgyu?”

“Yup,” he said, starting up the stairs.

“Class went late?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he called.

He made it into his bedroom.

Locked the door.

Ran into his bathroom. Tore off his shirt and stuffed it in the sink, turning on the tap with shaking hands.

He’d gotten really good at washing blood out of things over the years.

No one else’s gift hurt them this bad. Sure, Yeonjun had the headaches. Soobin’s hearing nearly drove him mad. Taehyun was blind.

But they didn’t _bleed._

In the Midworld, it was better.

It didn’t hurt.

The sweetness of the starlight washed everything away, and the spines were truly a part of him. Not remnants of a monster that didn’t fit his human body.

But he didn’t live in the Wood. He lived in this nearly-mansion in a nice part of Seoul. He had a view of the further city from his bedroom window. Despite the cars rushing by on the highway beneath, the house was built to be soundproof. There was a maid to wash his clothes, but he had to clean the blood out of them first.

His parents could never know.

If they did, he wasn’t sure how bad they’d hurt him.

He turned on the shower.

One time, he hadn’t managed to wash out all the blood. The maid had found some on a sleeve and showed his parents. That was the day his father had broken his nose.

He hadn’t _meant_ to.

Beomgyu had convinced the urgent care doctors that it was a student. A bully. He’d had run-ins with them in the past. Bad ones. Easy target, that’s what Beomgyu was.

He’d been more careful after that.

After he finished washing all the blood away, he burrowed under the blankets on his bed and turned on his phone.

He wanted to talk to Taehyun.

To see if he was all right.

There had to be a way he could do to help him.

##

This was the plan Beomgyu landed on:

Get Taehyun a phone.

If he had a phone, if anything ever went wrong, he could call the police or something. Well, not the police. If the police saw his eye, they might shoot him.

But he could call his friends. They might be able to help him.

He wished Taehyun could move in here. Could just hide out with Beomgyu in his bedroom, where everything was safe and comfortable and the door had a lock on it.

Lives couldn’t be lived in a bedroom, though. Beomgyu had tried. And because his parents were always downstairs, he couldn’t have Taehyun come and go. They’d never approve of Beomgyu being his friend.

But if he could talk to Taehyun? That might cheer him up. It got awfully lonely in this room, and he assumed it would be just as lonely in a tiny storage container in a train yard.

He’d taken a little courage, and a little planning. His father didn’t pay much attention to finances anymore. It hadn’t been very hard to wait until they were asleep, and creep into the office. All the passwords were saved. Beomgyu had found a deal to get another line with another phone for only a little bit more every month. He had the phone shipped to Kai’s house, and redirected the phone plan emails to an address his father didn’t check.

Would he be found out? 

Really, the odds were slim. He’d updated all the phones to unlimited data last Christmas, and Father hadn’t noticed.

Today, the package had arrived at Kai’s apartment.

He simply had to sneak out and go to Taehyun’s.

##

Taehyun walked back from the burger place. No need to wait for Beomgyu’s bus to leave, because Beomgyu hadn’t been able to come. Texted Kai last minute, said his parents wanted him home for dinner. At least, that’s what Kai _said_. Taehyun wasn’t sure if it was true. The kid had been acting really suspicious the entire evening.

Things were looking up. They really were. Taehyun actually liked living in the little storage container. A place with four walls and a roof, and a bolt on the door. Once he was closed in, there was nothing to stop him from seeing.

His feet crunched down the gravel roadway into the train yard. He was nearly there when—

He stopped.

Someone was standing in front of his place. He could hear them breathing.

“Don’t be scared,” Beomgyu said, “It’s just me.”

Surprise, then shame, then anger rolled over Taehyun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” 

“I don’t need to talk to you.”

He pushed past Beomgyu and into his little house. _Breathe_ , he told himself. 

It was bound to happen eventually.

What would everyone do?

When they knew he was homeless?

He threw his sunglasses on the bed and stared at the wall. His anger faded a little as his vision cleared on what hung there.

It was a drawing Kai had done for him.

Just a week ago…

_“Why are all your monsters so scary?” Taehyun asked._

_“Because they’re monsters,” Kai said. “They want to kill us.”_

_“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Taehyun said._

_“Of course not! You’re not that sort of monster.”_

_“How do you know that monster is evil, though? What if it wasn’t?”_

The others had shown up then, and Taehyun had thought Kai had forgotten about it. But two days later, he’d given Taehyun this drawing:

A monstrous dragon, and even though the eyes were red, they were friendly. Even though it had razor teeth, it was smiling. It was a little cartoonish, sure, but it retained Kai’s same style, and he’d even used some colored pencils to add depth.

He turned around. The door was still open, and Beomgyu was still standing there, shivering.

“Don’t just leave the door open.”

“I can’t come in,” Beomgyu said, a strange sound in his voice. “I’m trying but I can’t.”

“Just step through the door,” Taehyun said, “Now that you’re here, I can’t stop you.”

Beomgyu stood straighter, a look of confusion on his face. He stepped inside.

“Very odd.”

“What?”

“I mean, I meant to come in here right away, so I could close the door, but I couldn’t until you told me I could.”

“You couldn’t?”

“It was like an invisible wall held me back.”

“Interesting,” Taehyun said, “But besides the point. What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

“I was worried, so I followed you.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Why’s it creepy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want anyone to know I was living here, and you invaded my privacy.” Taehyun sat down on the bed.

“Can I ask why you don’t live with your family?” Beomgyu asked.

“You can ask, but I’m not going to answer.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

Beomgyu shrugged off his backpack and sat down in the rickety desk chair. “Are you hungry?”

“I just ate.”

Beomgyu unzipped his backpack and handed Taehyun a candy bar anyways.

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” Taehyun said.

“If Mia’s not buying, I doubt you get enough food.”

What was the use in arguing?

He unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite. Gosh, it was good. He _was_ hungry. Starving, actually. Without his income from the school gambling ring, funds had been tight. The burger and measly handful of fries he’d had at the diner—what Kai’s allowance could afford—were all he’d eaten all day.

“I brought some more stuff,” Beomgyu said. He pulled a few more candy bars, some cup ramen, a bag of chips, and a banged-up metal water bottle.

“I don’t need any of this,” Taehyun said, though, if he was being honest, he could eat it all right now.

“It was really hard to sneak out of the pantry, and I doubt I could sneak it back in,” Beomgyu said.

Taehyun stood and went to the desk. He picked up the water bottle. It was full and still cold. “What’s this for?”

“It’s getting hotter,” Beomgyu said, “If you have a place to get ice, it keeps cold for a long time. If you get dehydrated you might get sick.”

That was a very good point. He was already accustomed to feeling sticky all the time, and it was just June. There were many months of summer still to go, and if he passed out from heat exhaustion…

Well, the end result would probably be his death.

Taehyun returned to the bed. Beomgyu crossed over, bringing his backpack, and sat next to him.

Beomgyu’s hands were shaking, even as he clutched the sides of the backpack. He must have known Taehyun was staring at him, but he didn’t look back. He just stared at the backpack.

Taehyun was about to ask if there was something wrong, but Beomgyu spoke first.

“I have one more thing for you,” Beomgyu said, “And you’re not going to want to take it. But you have to. Please.”

“I make no promises,” Taehyun said.

“But, Tae, you have to”—

“I’m joking, okay?” Taehyun said.

He hadn’t been joking, but the anxiety in Beomgyu’s voice had sent a shiver down his spine. The kid thought this was really serious.

Beomgyu dug his hand into the bottom of the backpack and pulled out a smartphone, still in the box.

“Hell no,” Taehyun said.

“You said you were joking,” Beomgyu replied, looking Taehyun in the eyes. “That was pretty much promising. Here. You have to take it.”

"I don't need a phone."

“I know, but I’ll feel better if you have one.”

“Why the hell do I care how you feel? I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously,” Beomgyu said, bristling. He stood up. “Obviously you can take care of yourself. You’re living in a storage container in a train yard and it’s ninety bloody degrees in here. You’ve gotten thinner ever since Mia left and stopped feeding you so much, and I thought you were too thin before that. I saw an old man who said before you got this place, you slept under a piece of plywood! For _months_!”

“Pretty comfortable, actually,” Taehyun said, smirking.

“No. No. That’s not comfortable. That’s dangerous.”

“We’re not all cowards like you.”

“I’m not a coward!” Beomgyu shouted. He glared at Taehyun for a moment before his shoulders fell and he collapsed into the desk chair. He hugged the cell phone box to his chest and breathed deeply.

“I’m not afraid,” Taehyun lied, “So why are you scared for me?”

“We’re friends,” Beomgyu said, “We’re friends, and you’re sleeping on a ratty old mattress in a box, while I’m sleeping on thousand-dollar sheets. And I won’t be able to sleep at all now that I know, well, at any time, well, you know what happens to kids on the street.”

“What? You think I’ll get murdered by some psycho and they’ll find my body in the river?”

Beomgyu didn't respond, but his face said that that was exactly what he thought.

Taehyun laughed. “I was joking again, Beomgyu. There’s no way that will happen.”

“I have instincts,” Beomgyu said, “I think it has to do with my… my supernatural abilities. And my instincts say this is dangerous, and I know I can’t give you a better place to live, but if I can at least contact you, I’ll feel so much better.” 

“I’ve gotten along without a phone so far,” Taehyun said.

“I know. It’s what made me suspicious in the first place.”

“Wait, really?”

“No one lives without a phone. It’s really suspicious. And I bet the others will start to catch on, soon, and Yeonjun will flip if he knows you’re living out here. Probably force you to move in with one of us, and I know you don’t want that.”

Beomgyu glanced up at him, with the smallest of gleams in his eye.

Taehyun sighed and flopped back on the bed.

He was right, gosh dangit. 

“Okayyyy, I’ll take the stupid phone. But only if you promise to never tell anyone I’m living here.”

“Promise!” Beomgyu said, skipping from the chair over to the bed. He slapped the box down on Taehyun’s chest. “Come on, open it and we can set it up together. New phones are lots of fun.”

“I don’t have power here,” Taehyun said, “It’ll probably be dead most the time.”

“I thought about that! So I got a phone with the best battery life on the market. You can charge it at the burger place, and at school once it starts up again. And if you’re ever lonely here, all by yourself, you can text me and stuff, and we’ll be alone together.”

“I like being alone,” Taehyun said.

“Not all the time.”

That was true.

After so many nights hiding in this train yard alone, it was nice to have Beomgyu to talk to. To set up his phone account with him. To download a few free games. It was nearly midnight before Beomgyu jumped up.

“Gosh, I need to go home,” he said, grabbing the empty backpack and rushing towards the door.

“Wait a sec,” Taehyun said, “It’s really late.”

“I know, that’s why”—

“You’re the one who said it’s dangerous. You should stay here tonight.”

Beomgyu shook his head.

“Why not? The sheets not up to your standards?”

“Yup, that’s it,” Beomgyu said, forcing a smile.

Like this was a joke.

But his entire posture screamed this was no joking matter.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Taehyun said, “Why can’t you stay here?”

“My parents will kill me,” Beomgyu said.

“Text them. They don’t have to know where I live. You’re sixteen. It’s summer break.”

“My parents will kill me,” Beomgyu said again, softer.

“Who cares if”—

“Tae, stop. I have to go. I have to. Please trust me.”

Taehyun did not trust him.

But he knew he had to let him go.

“Call me when you’re back,” Taehyun said, “And be careful. It’s really dark tonight.”

“I’m always careful,” Beomgyu said, and he slipped out the door like a ghost, closing it behind him without a sound.

Taehyun nearly threw the door open to look after him, make sure he made it to the road all right, but the star in his eye was bright tonight. If there was anyone else out there, they’d see him.

He grabbed his new smartphone off the bed.

Maybe he should call Beomgyu right now, to stay on the line with him until he was home. Sometimes kids did disappear.

_BANG BANG BANG._

He jumped.

“I changed my mind,” Beomgyu called from outside the door.

Thank goodness.

Taehyun slid back the bolt and let him in.

“Why’d you come back?” Taehyun asked.

“Instincts,” Beomgyu said, “Even though it doesn’t make sense. I did what you said. Told my parents I’m sleeping over. I think it will be safer than me going home so late.”

“Definitely,” Taehyun said.

##

Though the sleeping arrangements were inferior to the ones in his house, Beomgyu slept better than he had in weeks. Taehyun had pushed up part of the roof to let in a bit of late-night breeze. It was still miserably hot, and hotter still to sleep on this small mattress together, but they were safe.

It didn’t make sense in the human world, but Beomgyu felt that the combination of his instincts and Taehyun’s vision would protect them from whatever threats might have been seeking them tonight.

Like the threat he’d felt pressing harder and harder with each step he’d taken away from this place. He didn’t think it had been Taehyun’s danger. There was some magic on this place, to keep out enemies. Soobin would surely want to look into it if he knew of its existence.

He wouldn’t hear it from Beomgyu, though. A promise was a promise.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Taehyun woke. He slid off the bed and sat at the desk. He ate half the bag of potato chips and another candy bar before returning. Beomgyu would have to get him something more to eat, somehow. Maybe he could steal away some pocket change, and make sure to get Taehyun an extra burger tomorrow evening.

In the morning, Beomgyu woke to the heat of the sun in his eyes. Taehyun was still sleeping, his arm thrown over his face. Like he was used to the light peering in, and was ready to keep on sleeping as long as he could.

Beomgyu carefully crawled off the bed so he wouldn’t wake him. They were meeting again this afternoon, as they often did. He was pretty sure today was another park day, before they went out for dinner. Kai would have a new manga for them to try, but it wasn’t the same without Mia to do most of the character voices. Soobin and Yeonjun would pour over more academic books, looking for something. Taehyun would once more flip through Kai’s sketchbook and wonder why the monsters were scary.

Beomgyu had the answer to that: monsters were scary because they were evil. If he ever saw that centipede-like beast that had threatened Kai, he hoped he would have the strength to kill it. No second glances, no second thoughts.

Anything that was like the wrongful Death should die.

Beomgyu combed his fingers through his hair to no avail. Thankfully, there was a baseball cap in the bottom of his backpack. His phone—with only 8% battery remaining—told him it was eight-thirty.

The last time he hadn’t slept at home, the family had been in Prague. He’d been nine.

It felt good. Getting on the bus. Knowing he’d kind of gone against his parents wishes. Sort of. Not really. He’d told them. He glanced at his phone. They still hadn’t messaged him back to tell him he couldn’t.

He’d stayed with Taehyun and they couldn’t rightfully get mad at him.

##

They were mad at him, of course. He knew it from the glint in their eyes.

Beomgyu cowered against the wall as his father raised his hand, but his mother intervened. “Dr. Park will be here soon,” she hissed.

His father took a deep breath before turning to his son. Beomgyu wished he could stand, but he couldn’t. In his father’s eyes, he saw the reason why his instincts had told him to stay with Taehyun last night.

“Dr. Park will be here for lunch,” his father repeated, “Make yourself presentable. You will stay at the table with us the whole time. No excuses, or you will regret it.”

“Yessir,” Beomgyu said, his voice shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming Saturday, October 31st! Thanks for reading!


	26. Magic Island: Chapter 3

Yeonjun’s relationship with Soobin had never been simple.

Back when they were just kids, the two of them had naturally come together. They were the oldest. Only a few months separated them. In elementary school, they had the same teacher. 

The five of them were friends in the forest, but Yeonjun and Soobin were together outside of it, as well.

Then one day, Kai didn’t come back to school. The teachers never told them why. Said to ask their parents, which they never could bring themselves to do. That’s when they’d had their first real fight: Soobin had said that Kai was probably dead, and Yeonjun had pushed him down and run off crying.

As the boy who should be Death, Yeonjun always knew that the Death that existed now was something to be very afraid of.

They stopped talking to Beomgyu and Taehyun after that. It wasn’t on purpose. But they didn’t have classes with the younger kids, and without Kai, they didn’t feel they could go back to the forest.

Soobin’s mother and Yeonjun’s mother were acquainted. Soobin’s mom was more than willing to take Yeonjun if his mom even hinted that she needed a break. Yeonjun couldn’t blame her. Middle school had been rough. Everything made him angry, and whenever even the lightest of insults came his way, he usually ended up in a fight.

At that same time, Soobin became nearly unbearable to be around. He was always complaining about how loud Yeonjun was talking, or chewing, or breathing. All the while, Yeonjun's headaches became more awful. The past days of elementary school faded into fantasy, so much so that Yeonjun even forgot Kai’s name. Forgot that he’d known Taehyun and Beomgyu.

In eighth grade, Yeonjun’s mother’s paranoia became so bad that she decided Yeonjun couldn’t go to Soobin’s anymore. It was a good decision for both of them.

Today, just a few weeks before their senior year would begin, the two once-and-now friends were together in the library.

They were fighting.

Had been for nearly two weeks.

Ever since Soobin had meddled in affairs not meant for him and sent Kai into potential danger.

Sure, Yeonjun understood it hadn’t seemed dangerous. It was broad daylight. Kai was a smart kid. That was Soobin’s argument, and it wasn’t wrong.

But Kai also suffered from some potentially severe mental illnesses that Soobin didn’t understand. That Yeonjun didn’t feel he had the right to explain.

Soobin started scribbling something on the chalkboard.

Yeonjun flipped a page in the fairytale book he was reading. A giant dragon covered the entire spread.

He’d looked Kai up, after he remembered who Kai was. Read all the news articles surrounding Mr. and Mrs. Huening’s tragic accident. How Kai had seen it all.

How, just last year, Kai had had a breakdown at school. He didn’t know all the details of what happened. They weren’t public record, and he hadn’t been brave enough to ask Mrs. Cho about it. He just knew that it had landed Kai in a mental hospital for a month for “testing and observation.”

The thing was… Soobin knew this, too.

And he still had sent the kid out into the city on his own.

What if he’d had another break with reality?

What if seeing that monster had sent him over the edge?

What if he’d fallen under the metro train as he tried to get away?

Every time he tried to forgive Soobin, another scenario of Kai being horribly injured or killed flooded through Yeonjun’s mind, and the anger flared right back.

He turned the page.

Another stupid fairy story, written in English. Yeonjun could understand it all right, but it was so boring and irrelevant.

_Sleeping Beauty._

Seriously?

He slammed the book shut.

Soobin jumped and turned. “What’s wrong?”

“This is stupid,” Yeonjun said. “Why am I reading this?”

“I need another set of eyes,” Soobin said, turning back to the board.

“To read princess stories?”

“They aren’t just princess stories.”

Yeonjun snorted. “I don’t freaking care.”

“I’ve read far more than you.”

“Not all of us speak six bloody languages.”

“You know two, and we can start with that.”

Soobin’s tone was cool and collected, and Yeonjun hated it.

“What good is all this going to do?” Yeonjun said. “They’re fairy stories. I’ve heard them all when I was, like, five. Give me something else. Something that matters.”

“The alchemy books seemed above your comprehension level, and besides, humans shouldn’t mess with magic that strong,” Soobin said, making some dramatic lines on the chalkboard. “And ‘not all of us speak six bloody languages.’ There’s nothing else for you.”

“Then I’m leaving,” Yeonjun said, shoving the book onto the floor.

“That won’t help anything,” Soobin said.

“Well, this isn’t helping, either!” Yeonjun exclaimed. “How is knowing about Sleeping Beauty going to keep Kai safe?”

“You assume you can do anything to keep Kai safe?”

“Well, I sure as hell am never going to do anything to hurt him.”

Soobin didn’t react. He took a step back, and looked at the diagrams on the chalkboard. “Look at this,” Soobin said, “Tell me what I’m missing.”

It was too much for Yeonjun.

“I don’t bloody care!” he shouted, standing and knocking over the desk. A pile of books crashed downwards, their pages crinkling as they hit the ground. 

He ran.

His head aching and his heart pounding and the blood rushing to his face.

They were _together._

This should be fine.

They could keep each other safe.

But studying books didn’t seem to make anything better.

What if he learned self defense?

Should they have some sort of weapon?

How were you supposed to be a good Korean student when there were monsters out to get you and your friends?

Where was Kai, now?

(At home, probably. Safe in his apartment.)

(Unless the monster slipped in when the door was open and stabbed him with its poisoned fangs.)

(Leaving him to die, alone and scared, on his kitchen floor.)

He reached the pool room and sat on the edge, staring down at himself in the water. He did not have horns. Soobin had been right about his days in the Woods keeping them away. But there were tears running down his cheeks, and he hated it.

He was seventeen, for goodness sake. He shouldn’t be so mad he was crying.

He desperately wanted to go into the Woods. To let himself breathe the air of the Midworld, the sweet foreign smell of flowers and magic. To let himself be free of being human. But that would lead Death right to him, and he wasn’t strong enough yet.

Would he ever be strong enough?

No.

There was no way.

All the books and the research Soobin had done throughout all of high school seemed to have taught him so little. What was to be found in fairy tales and textbooks that were more fiction than science?

Were they all doomed from the start?

Why the hell had Kai even wanted to be their friend, back when they were small and innocent and thought magic was good?

He hadn’t been able to save Kai then.

Soobin was right.

A little bold to assume anything had changed. 

There was so little any of them could do. Fate ruled them. Their lives were like butterflies flying through a forest of spiderwebs. Prisoners on death row. Mice in a cage with a cat. It was just a matter of time before the false Death, with all the pain and darkness It held, took them.

All of them.

Even Kai, who should never have made himself those stupid wings.

No one could see Yeonjun here. That was one good thing.

He hugged his knees up to his chest and cried until he couldn’t anymore.

##

Soobin carefully straightened the pages of the books as he picked them off the ground. Part of him thought Yeonjun was being an obnoxious brat. This was serious. Their lives depended on what knowledge they could acquire, and where could you find knowledge except in books?

The other part of him wanted to chase after Yeonjun, but he knew that was useless. How could he make Yeonjun feel better when he wasn’t sorry? Sure, he was sorry Kai ran into a monster. But he wasn’t sorry that he’d sent Kai after Mia, especially because he’d found her. Said goodbye. Was texting her every day and video chatting at least once a week, as were all of them.

Mia was important.

If Kai hadn’t run after her, he wasn’t sure if they would have heard from her again.

Which didn’t excuse the fact that he’d sent Kai out alone, but…

They would have been too late if Kai had waited for anyone to join him.

One of the pages in this book refused to straighten. With a hiss of anger, he tore it out and crumpled it between his fingers.

Why was friendship so hard?

It was much easier when the Noise was so loud he didn’t care how the others felt.

But now…

Now…

He knew Yeonjun was hurting, and he didn’t know how to make it better.

He took a deep breath.

Ruining books wouldn’t fix anything.

He straightened the page. It was from one of the old Mandarin texts. Mandarin wasn’t his best language, but he found it interesting. The characters were so beautiful, so intricate. He began reading the pages, slowly, deconstructing the sentences.

A cold shiver ran over him.

He grabbed the book he’d torn the page from.

He’d started reading it last fall. It had taken him a full six weeks to get through the first chapter. It was supposedly the journal of an alchemist from the early 20th century, and the tone was very stream-of-consciousness. The entire first chapter was the author’s thoughts on the poor quality of a seafood dish. When chapter two began with the author’s opinions on what made a good seafood dish, Soobin had given up.

This page, though… he didn’t understand everything, but after half an hour, he could sort of sum it up.

_Beware the Shadow. Beware the Fae. But most of all Beware the Dream. The Dream which comes and comes and comes. It tells, it tells. Listen and beware and fear. There is no stopping. No stopping the dream. Once it finds you, you are warned, but you cannot run. The Thoughts_ (of something, he/she/it/they, Soobin didn’t know) _are wild, the Thoughts_ (once again, of something) _are free. You may hear them. And you will not stop them._

He couldn’t get anything from the next paragraph, but at the end of the page—

_Bow before the Dream. Worship it, for it will rule you._

_You cannot run._

_You cannot escape._

_The Dream comes and the Death follows._

Soobin shivered. He walked to the other end of the library and photocopied the page. He’d have to pay for it, but he needed this professionally translated. It seemed important to know if he’d missed anything, and what the author meant by The Dream.

Soobin usually didn’t dream, but lately, he had.

Every night.

He didn’t remember it clearly, but the emotions it brought were strong. Painful. True. And the same, every night.

Was the dream important?

Was this what he was missing?

##

Beomgyu showered, styled his hair in the way his mother liked him to, and dressed in slacks and button-down like his father insisted he wear whenever they had guests.

In the mirror, he looked like the proper heir to a small fortune.

Exactly what everyone thought he was.

Nobody saw the bruises that showed that his parents didn’t love him.

Nobody saw the scars on his shoulder that showed he wasn’t human.

They saw this:

A nervous yet attractive teenager in simple but expensive clothes, ready to smile and nod and keep his mouth closed unless he was spoken to.

Mr. Park had been in school with his father. He and his wife, Dr. Park, came over once a quarter or so. They had “shared financial interests,” or something like that. When Beomgyu was little, the Parks would sometimes bring their son, Jimin. He was a couple years older than Beomgyu, but they would still have fun playing out in the Garden while the adults were talking.

Things had happened, though, and he hadn’t seen Jimin in a long time. Without a child to entertain, Beomgyu was expected to sit at the table until he was excused.

He hadn’t thought of Jimin in years, but today, he wondered what had happened to him. Why he never came anymore.

The Parks arrived.

Drinks and hors d’oevres in the sitting room. The obligatory exclamation on how nice the Garden looked at this time of year! How much the Chois must love living here, with such a safe a secluded atmosphere inside the very heart of Seoul!

Discussion of favors (given and received), of important men and women, and of government and politics (both families agreed on these topics) followed. Beomgyu became more and more upset. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. Probably just Yeonjun sending him memes, but it could be Taehyun. What if he was in trouble? What if he needed Beomgyu’s help, and Beomgyu was stuck here in the middle of this vapid and useless conversation with stuck-up boring humans who knew nothing of the real world?

“Beomgyu,” said Dr. Park, and the attention turned to him. “My, how you’ve grown!”

This was a lie. He had only grown a quarter-inch since he had last seen the Parks in the early spring. He smiled politely in response.

“What, aren’t you going to be a senior in the fall?”

“Junior,” Beomgyu corrected. And then—

This was how conversation worked—

He needed to know—

“Didn’t Jimin graduate this year?”

Oh, god. Wrong question. But also, exactly what he wanted to ask. An air of discomfort fell over the table. Dr. Park glanced at her husband, who took a deep breath and nodded.

“Oh, dear, I am sorry,” said Beomgyu’s mother, “We don’t want to bring up anything upsetting, Beomgyu shouldn’t have spoken”—

“No, no,” said Dr. Park. “I don’t mind. We never really explained Jimin’s situation to you, did we?”

There was silent acknowledgement from Beomgyu’s parents.

“Jimin is a very sick boy,” Dr. Park said, “But I suppose he wanted to take care of his problems in his own way.”

“It is a relief, of sorts,” Mr. Park said, “Though I do wonder sometimes how he’s getting on.”

“What do you mean?” Beomgyu’s mother asked. All polite avoidance was gone, now that she’d seen their guests were eager to share.

It seemed Park Jimin had some sort of disorder. What it was, his parents were never clear on. Beomgyu wondered if it had anything to do with how Jimin would sometimes just stare at nothing for a few minutes when they were in the Garden, and when he finally snapped back to normal, denied that he’d just been acting creepy.

He’d been in the hospital for two years—not the one Dr. Park worked at, she didn’t think she could work in the same building where her son was suffering—and they planned on keeping him there for life. He was doing as well as could be expected. But then his friends, this bunch of dirty, poor street kids he’d met in high school, convinced him to run away. He’d gotten a lawyer and everything, claimed his parents had been abusing their rights. Since he was eighteen, they’d practically been forced let him go. Nothing they could do, if he wanted to ruin his life. You just knew what those people who lived in those sorts of neighborhoods were like. Drugs and stealing and sleeping around. Such low class.

Finally, the topic moved on. His parents didn’t seem to be angry at him for asking a question. The juicy drama was enough for them. And Beomgyu, well—

He had hope.

When he turned eighteen, he could get out.

Maybe sooner.

If he had the right lawyer.

Kai’s uncle was a lawyer.

If he could get away from here—

Where would he go?

He thought of Taehyun, living in a container and literally starving because there was no more American girl with a mother who still didn’t quite get the exchange rates and always sent Mia with lots of money for dinner hangouts. 

Did Beomgyu really have a right to complain that sometimes he had to sit through long and cringey dinner conversations?

Did he have a right to complain that he had to wash the blood out of his shirts before the maid saw it?

Did he have a right to complain that sometimes, if he didn’t come home with the right grades, or at the right time, or with the right people, his parents would hit him?

It was too much to think about.

Finally, the adults went to have one last drink in the entryway before the chauffeur came for the Park’s. Beomgyu was free.

He pulled his phone out.

Forty-five texts. 

All from Yeonjun. 

All of them memes. Most of them were really dumb. But seeing them put a smile on his face, and he wandered towards the stairway slower than he should have.

“Beomgyu.”

He froze.

“Do you, by chance, paint?”

He turned around. Dr. Park had returned to the dining room, and she held a wine glass in her left hand.

“Why do you ask?” Beomgyu asked.

“I saw a bit of red on your shirt.”

Beomgyu immediately glanced at his shoulder.

Nothing was there.

He looked back up at Dr. Park.

A smug look was on her face.

“We did a project at school,” Beomgyu said, the lie rolling easily off his tongue, “Maybe I forgot to wash this shirt.”

“Red stains so badly, don’t you think?”

“So does blue,” Beomgyu responded. “And purple.”

“Your parents are your most valuable asset. Remember that,” she said.

Beomgyu waited until she was gone to run up to his room. He tore off his shirt, searching all over it for blood. For any sort of red fuzz or mark.

There was nothing.

So why had she said it?

Why was he so stupid to react as he had?

What was going on?

_Buzz._

He opened his phone.

Another meme.

He smiled.

Locked his door.

Laid down on his queen-sized bed with the silk sheets.

Nothing could hurt him right now.

The future? 

He’d worry about that tomorrow.

##

Kai hopped off the metro, and his uncle followed him.

“And, exit four,” Kai murmured, glancing at his phone. “Then we’ll take the first left?”

He glanced at his uncle, and the man just smiled.

It was the Saturday before Kai’s fifteenth birthday, and, as usual on the weekend before his birthday, his uncle was taking him out for lunch.

This was the first time they had done it in Seoul, and the first time when he’d let Kai lead the way. Just gave Kai the address, and asked him to take them there.

For most nearly-fifteen-year-olds, this would be nothing. But it was a big deal for Kai. In Busan, like here in Seoul, the only place Kai had ever gone by himself was school. One bus route. No transfers. Straight route from school to less than a block from home.

As far as his uncle knew, this was the first time Kai had navigated the metro on his own. He thought he made it believable. Really, when you looked at it, the metro system wasn’t too hard to get around. He’d gone lots of places with his aunt and uncle, and with his friends. And, of course, that one time by himself. Getting to this cafe was far easier than getting to Incheon.

The cafe should have been just to his left… but he didn’t see it. He walked a little further, then turned back and looked at his uncle.

“We're here,” his uncle said. “Look.” He pointed.

Kai saw it.

How had he missed it a moment before?

There was a little windowed door, and above it, a carved wooden sign that read Smeraldo Cafe.

“Smeraldo Cafe?” Kai said uncertainly.

“It’s a cool place,” his uncle said. “My friends and I came here all the time in high school. College, even.”

Kai paused outside the door.

For some reason, he didn’t think he could go in.

But why?

It was just a cafe.

The inside was a little strange. There was seating on the ground floor, and a garden full of flowers out back, but instead of taking one of the many empty tables (in fact, only one was occupied, with a college-aged young man chatting with a college-aged barista), his uncle led him up the stairs into the loft.

“This is where we’d sit,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting. Kai sat across from him. The table overlooked the little back courtyard, and the window was open to let in a summer breeze. “This is exactly where we’d sit and talk about dragons.”

Kai’s jaw dropped open, but the barista showed up, and his jaw remained open for a different reason.

She was not the one he’d seen downstairs. That barista had been cute, but this one was unbelievably beautiful. For a moment, he thought she might only be half-Korean, and that’s what made her looks so different, but… no. On second glance, she was perfectly Korean. Just... well... he couldn't put his finger on what was so special about her.

“Mr. Cho! It’s been a while! My mother will be so glad when I tell her you came by.”

“I’m sorry to miss her,” Kai’s uncle said. “I want to introduce you to my nephew. This is Kai.”

Kai blushed a little as the woman—no, she was just a girl, probably still in high school—smiled at him. “I’m so glad to make your acquaintance, Kai. I hope we’ll see you here often.”

He nodded, not sure what else to do.

She took their orders. Kai let his uncle order for him, since he was still feeling a little tongue-tied at how unbelievably beautiful the girl was. Otherworldly, almost.

“So many memories in this place,” his uncle said, once she’d left. “Can you believe I haven’t been here since we moved back?”

There were too many words and feelings rolling around in Kai’s head for him to process.

“Is anything wrong?” his uncle asked, concern in his eyes.

“Dragons?” Kai asked.

A smile spread over his Uncle’s face. “Yes, Kai. Dragons.”

“Why’d you talk about dragons?”

The barista came back and gave them their drinks: an iced Americano for his uncle, and a strawberry milk for Kai.

“We were nerds,” his uncle said, smiling. “Tolkien inspired me to double-major with linguistics instead of putting all of my focus into pre-law. It was classes and studying and words during the week, and every weekend, we found meaning to those words in stories and adventures.”

Kai smiled, because his uncle was smiling, his eyes lost in remembering. “See,” his uncle continued, “Look at the floorboards.”

Kai looked.

His heart skipped.

There were _dragons._

Not just any dragons. They looked a lot like the ones he drew, from his own faded memories, in his sketchbook.

“Your aunt was one of us, too,” he said, “She particularly loved Lloyd Alexander. Minjun always thought she was a little childish, but… well, we were a bunch of twenty-somethings who spent our free time discussing the differences between Sindarin and Quenya and thought it was fun.”

“Sindarin? What’s that?”

“It’s one of the languages of the elves, as created by Tolkien, the author of the Lord of the Rings.”

“A guy created a language for his book?”

“He actually created the language and the mythos grew up around it, but…” His uncle shook his head and sipped his drink. “That’s a story for another time.”

The barista showed back up with their sandwiches. They thanked her.

“Why are you telling me this?” Kai said. “Aunt doesn’t even like me watching some of the Marvel movies. I heard her tell Dr…”

He trailed off, red creeping into his face. He shouldn’t have let on about his eavesdropping.

But his uncle looked at him, understanding in his eyes. “She said that she thought seeing monsters on television would encourage your delusions.”

Kai nodded.

“You’re fifteen now,” said his Uncle.

“Well, on Wednesday.”

“It wasn’t just the languages and the details and the, I don’t know, nerdiness of fantasy that drew us to it,” his uncle said, “It was the stories. The adventure. The meaning. The magic.”

A breeze whistled through the window, brushing through Kai’s hair and making him feel alive.

“Monsters don’t exist,” his uncle said, “Not in a literal sense. Not as in creatures with fangs and claws, seeking for blood in the darkness. Not as dragons and wraiths flying through the air. But they are still real. It’s what all the great stories are really about. Though the knight may slay the dragon in the story, maybe it’s really about the student standing up for injustice, or the girl making friends with an outcast, or the boy deciding that he doesn’t care what others think: he’s going to do the right thing anyways.”

“Is that why you’re a lawyer?” Kai asked.

His uncle laughed. “You’re pretty sharp.”

“I mean, there’s no where better to fight human monsters,” Kai said.

“And protect the innocent,” his uncle said.

They took a few minutes to enjoy their sandwiches in silence.

“So, all this to say,” his uncle said, “We’ve decided that, if you want to, you can read stories about monsters now.”

Kai was pretty sure his uncle was more excited about this than he was, but…

“Is that an okay present?”

“Yes!” Kai said, smiling. And it was. Because it was a little bit of freedom he hadn’t had before.

“Also,” his uncle continued, “This place is a little bit of a present, too. I know Mia loves greasy American food, but… you can bring your friends here whenever you like, and if you sit at this table, everything’s on the house.”

“What, why?”

“I kinda had a hand in saving the owner’s life once. I didn’t ask her for anything in return, but she says she won’t take a penny from me or anyone I send her way.”

They sat in silence, staring out into the garden.

Kai imagined bringing his friends here. Sitting around this table, drinking drinks and eating sandwiches, and all for free. His allowance was never enough to get enough food. Taehyun always looked hungry these days. Beomgyu loved coffee, but the stuff at the burger joint was terrible. Mia might cry from joy when she saw the intricately carved dragons. They’d love it here.

Then he thought about Yeonjun and Soobin.

Something had happened between them. He wasn’t sure what, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with him. They never skipped out on group dinners these past few weeks, and he wasn’t sure if they met in the library to research anymore. Whenever he asked Yeonjun if he’d learned anything new about the monsters, Yeonjun brushed him off. Told him not to worry, which kind of made him feel like a baby. When he asked Soobin, Soobin always said it was too complicated. Kind of made him feel stupid.

“Think we should head home?” his uncle asked.

“Can I ask you something first?” Kai said.

## 

As they left the table, Kai noticed not just dragons, but other strange creatures carved in the woodwork. Things much like he’d drawn at some point or other. Not a single chair matched another, and the tables were of all different styles. Downstairs, the college-aged barista was sitting across from the college-aged guy. If the guy had been planning on doing any studying, it was obvious the girl cancelled that and he didn’t mind one bit.

The bell dinged above them as they exited.

“Goodbye!” called the pretty girl from somewhere inside.

“Well, are you going to take us home?” his uncle asked.

“Yessir,” Kai said, smiling. He turned around to glance back at the cafe one more time.

The sign was obvious. Intricately carved. The glass door even showed a bit of the inside of the cafe.

How had he missed it his first time walking by?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this wasn't a super eventful chapter, but all important information for going forward. The calm before the storm, you might say.
> 
> I'm going to give NaNoWriMo a shot this year, and my goal is to finish the drafts of Part Seven and maybe even Part Eight by the end of the month.
> 
> Hope you all had a happy halloween, and thanks for reading :) Part 4, Chapter 4 coming next Saturday, November 7th :)


	27. Magic Island: Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early, but tomorrow's going to be a busy day, so I figured I'd post tonight instead.
> 
> I don't really like putting specific trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters because I feel like that could potentially spoil things?? If you've read this far, you know what you're getting into. But read the tags and warnings for the whole fic. Things get real.
> 
> Also, there are a *lot* of references in this chapter, lol.

Taehyun hadn’t thought that simply listening could be so much fun.

When the blindness first came, it was terrifying. He was newly homeless. Huddling under the piece of plywood, holding the sunglasses against his face, afraid that his parents might be after him. That they might have called the police or the government.

That they were coming and they were going to shoot him and he wouldn’t see them coming because he couldn’t _see_.

Here, it wasn’t like that.

Kai’s aunt was still in the apartment—in her office, working on her wedding planning business—and because of that, it was too risky to take the glasses off. But he didn’t care.

His belly was full of cake and he was leaning comfortably back on the couch cushions in an air conditioned apartment. There was a good dinner of barbecued pork coming in ninety minutes and he could hardly wait.

“Let’s open presents,” Kai said, “And then we’ll play video games? If you’re okay with that, Tae?”

“As long as I get a turn,” Taehyun replied. “Bet I can still beat you, even blind.”

“Seriously?” Yeonjun said, “There’s no way you can play video games if you can’t see.”

“Sure, the odds are low,” Taehyun said, “But that will get you the most rewarding winnings.”

“I’d put my money on Tae,” Beomgyu said, “Have you seen him play chess?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Kai, catch,” Yeonjun said. There was a small crinkle of paper as Yeonjun tossed the wrapped box. Kai caught it and tore the paper off.

“A… key?” Kai asked. “What’s it for?”

“Protection,” Yeonjun said, “I mean, I hope. Probably not. I decided to try a spell from the one alchemy book that’s written in Korean. The key necklace is just from a street vendor. Looks cool, if nothing else.”

Taehyun heard the chain slide over Kai’s head. “It is cool,” Kai said, “Thanks.”

Next up was Soobin’s gift, which, from the sound of it, was in a large bag with tissue paper. Kai pulled the paper out and—

“A stuffed dolphin?” A bit of disdain. After all, he was turning fifteen. What fifteen-year-old still had—

“Read the card,” Soobin said.

The tearing of an envelope. A card opening. Kai, quiet, for a minute as he read it.

“You said you wanted to go to the aquarium,” Soobin said, “So I thought maybe next weekend?”

“That would be really fun,” Kai said.

“Lemme see the dolphin,” Taehyun said. Kai passed it to him, and he ran his fingers over the plush fabric it was made of. He wondered if he could further develop his sense of touch, as he had with his sense of hearing. 

If he only had Soobin’s ears, he might not even miss his vision.

Last of all, Beomgyu’s gift. Tied inside tissue paper with ribbon. Kai had quite a time trying to get it open.

“Can I get you scissors?” Beomgyu asked.

“No, I’ve got it… just a second…”

Taehyun could feel the amusement from the others as Kai struggled. Finally, the ribbon snapped, and the paper ripped.

“Oh my gosh,” Kai said. “These are. Like. Expensive.”

“They’re re-gifted,” Beomgyu said, quickly. “My… my mother bought them for me a few years ago. I never used them. I… I thought you might, though? Do you like them?”

“Oh my gosh,” Kai said, again.

“He loves them,” Yeonjun said in translation.

Taehyun knew what they were. Beomgyu had asked him if it was terrible to give a gift you hadn’t bought, and Taehyun had told him hell no. They were art pens, very nice ones, a bunch of black ones in different widths and a whole set of brightly colored ones, too. The recommendation was a little selfish on Taehyun’s part: he was hoping Kai might draw him another picture of a good monster, and these colors would make for a very interesting drawing to look at when he could use his eyes.

Now, it was Taehyun’s turn.

He and Kai had planned this already.

Because, of course, he couldn’t afford to buy anything for Kai’s birthday. He’d felt bad about it, at first, but figured that straight-up admitting it beforehand was better than waiting until today and bringing nothing. Kai had completely bought that it was because Taehyun’s parents didn’t give him allowance and without school being in session, he had no money from the gambling ring. Beomgyu remained the only one who knew the truth.

“For my present,” Taehyun said, holding the stuffed dolphin in front of him, “I will be presenting us all with grand and incredible names, as worthy of the heroes in a great quest.”

“My Uncle and I just watched The Fellowship of the Ring,” Kai interrupted, “And I thought that we needed better names. I mean, what sort of hero name is Kai?”

“Exactly,” Taehyun continued. “We need special names. Code names, you might say. The names of great heroes long gone and great heroes rising now.”

Yeonjun snorted, but Kai was trying his best not to giggle.

“First off, our birthday boy. Catch!” He threw the dolphin, and heard as Kai’s hands grabbed it. “Self-made hero that you are, it was a little hard to find a name to suit you. Eventually, I landed on Gabriel. The angel-messenger. Because, well, you’ve gotten fricking awesome wings and also your words brought us all together again.” Taehyun waited for a moment, and then: “Do you like it?”

“I think it sounds cool,” Kai said.

Next was going to be the fun part.

“Beomgyu, your power is quite something. Looks painful, really, when you manifest outside the woods. And your instincts often give you the speed to get out of situations…”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“Come on,” Beomgyu said.

“Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“HECK NO!”

Kai burst out laughing. Exactly right.

“Okay, if you hate it that much,” Taehyun said, sighing, “Option two: Mr. Pricklepants.”

“WHAT?”

Kai was dying on the floor, and Yeonjun was laughing, too.

“He gets to be named after a legit angel,” Beomgyu said, “And I’m Mr. _Pricklepants_?”

“I guess so. Soobin? You ready?”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” Soobin said, and, thankfully, there was a touch of humor in his voice. Beomgyu tossed him the dolphin.

“Keebler.”

“What?”

“It’s a cookie brand in America.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Seriously? Little cartoon dudes with pointy ears?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Taehyun said dramatically, “You’re not going to fight it?”

“No.” His voice was less amused than earlier.

“I had a whole list, and you’re settling for Keebler?”

“I guess.”

“Buddy the Elf?” Taehyun threw out.

“That’s fine,” Soobin said.

“On the Shelf?”

“Huh?”

“Elf on the Shelf. You ever heard of that?”

“Nope.”

“What about Dobby?”

“Who’s that?”

Taehyun sighed dramatically and bent over. “We’re sticking with Dobby. Throw the Dolphin of Naming to Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun caught the dolphin more aggressively than the others.

“Give it to me,” he said, and Taehyun could picture the look of challenge that would be in his eyes.

“Kai said you already rejected Rudolph.”

“Definitely.”

“Besides, your nose isn’t red. So I was thinking Bambi.”

“Do you want to die?”

“You think you could kill me?”

The dolphin smacked Taehyun in the face, and Kai lunged to grab it before it hit the ground.

“We can go for real now,” Kai said, out of breath from laughing.

“For real?” Yeonjun asked.

“I could never actually call Beomgyu… Mr… Prickly…” Laughter overcame Kai, and he pressed his face into the stuffed dolphin to stifle it.

“We came up with fun ones, and then real ones. Kai is Gabriel, for real. Beomgyu, we just chose Quill for you.”

“Quill?” Beomgyu said.

“Because you have quills, more or less. Also, in Marvel, Starlord is Peter Quill, so it’s a cool name. You like it?”

“Yes,” Beomgyu said, “It’s cool.”

“Wanna know yours, Soobin?” Taehyun said.

“I really don’t get the point of these names,” Soobin said.

“Yours is special. I couldn’t find an elf that wasn’t a joke, so Kai chose it.”

“We’re calling you Legolas,” Kai said.

“Really?” Soobin asked, and he actually sounded excited.

“Yeah!” Kai said.

“And who am I?” Yeonjun asked.

“It’s hard to find cool deer,” Taehyun said.

Kai stuffed his face in the dolphin again.

“It doesn’t have to be a deer,” Yeonjun said.

“There’s one more that’s just perfect, though,” Taehyun said.

Kai was gasping.

“I don’t like this,” Yeonjun said, “Just spit it out already.”

Taehyun grabbed the dolphin away from Kai. Kai curled up on the rug, laughing his head off. Taehyun tossed the dolphin back towards Yeonjun.

As he caught it, in a dramatic voice, Taehyun said:

“Faline.”

##

Beomgyu’s instincts warned him too late.

Yeonjun dropped the dolphin, grabbed a couch pillow, lunged to smack it into Taehyun’s face. Kai dove for his legs, giving Taehyun the time to dodge and grab his own pillow, which he successfully whacked onto Yeonjun’s back.

After that, chaos erupted.

Noise and pillows and laughing and tackling. Beomgyu dodged and dove out of the way.

Part of him wanted to have fun.

The other part of him really didn’t want to get hit.

Even if it wasn’t mean.

Taehyun was the first to get a clear shot at him. Despite his blindness, he seemed to have good aim. To know who he was hitting.

He paused.

Did he know?

Did he know the last thing in the entire world Beomgyu wanted was—

CRASH. Soobin knocked into Taehyun, and then Yeonjun had a clear shot and WHACK the pillow hit Beomgyu square across the face.

_His father’s fist smashing into his teeth—_

No.

This was just pillows.

No need to run.

No need to—

WHACK

This time, the dolphin flew across the room and crashed into his side.

He wanted to ask them to stop.

But they were all having so much fun.

Even Taehyun, now that he was away from Beomgyu and wrestling with Kai over the possession of a flower-print cushion.

Could he pretend?

Maybe.

So he did.

He pretended.

He whacked with pillows and took the hits and tried and tried and tried to forget how much he hated it. How he kept thinking about his father hurting him. Even though this didn’t hurt. Not at all.

When Kai’s aunt came out and said they had to stop, he’d never been happier.

“Flag,” Taehyun said, as they started reconstructing the living room.

“What?” asked Kai.

“That’s the name I decided for Yeonjun.”

“Why?” Yeonjun asked.

“There aren’t a lot of deer in the world that aren’t from Bambi or Rudolph. I don’t know who Flag is, but he’s a character in some American book from the 30’s. It’s a classic.”

“And you know nothing about the character?” Soobin asked, but there was something dark in his tone.

“Nope,” Taehyun said, but he wouldn’t look in Soobin’s direction.

“I think it’s cool,” Yeonjun said. “Flag. Sounds kinda punk.”

“Video games?” Beomgyu said, hoping no one noticed the tightness in his voice.

“Great idea,” Yeonjun said, “You have Smash Bros? I’m not done beating people up.”

“Wait a second,” Kai said. “Umm.”

They all looked at him. His face was a little red.

“We need to talk about… stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?” Yeonjun said, his tone shifting. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Kai said. “There’s… there’s a problem and I think we need to talk through it.” 

“What sort of thing?” Taehyun asked, and it seemed to Beomgyu that he was shrinking back into the couch.

“Yeonjun and Soobin,” Kai said.

“What about good ol’ Soobinie?” Yeonjun said, forcing a smile and whacking Soobin’s shoulder.

“I want to know why you guys are fighting,” Kai said.

##

Taehyun was afraid that Kai knew.

So afraid.

For a moment there.

He was sure it was over.

_I know you’re really a monster._

_I know you can’t be trusted._

_I’m sorry, but you know we have to kill you._

But no.

It wasn’t about him.

“I’m not fighting with Soobin,” Yeonjun said.

“I wouldn’t call it fighting,” Soobin said.

They’d know. Soon, they’d know. They’d know that Taehyun was worse than all of them and that there was no way he could be a part of their group. That he was an outsider. That he was dangerous.

Yeonjun: “Well, what would you call it?”

Soobin: “My mother always thought you were less mature than I was. That, combined with your anger issues”—

Yeonjun: “The frick did you just say?”

They weren’t looking at him at all.

He jumped as the dolphin suddenly appeared in his hands. It took him a moment to realize that it hadn’t jumped up itself, but that Beomgyu had given it to him.

Soobin: “You freak out all the time. Over nothing.”

Yeonjun: “It’s not fricking nothing!”

Soobin: “Then tell me what makes you so damn irritable all the time.”

Beomgyu sat next to Taehyun.

Beomgyu, who had been so afraid during the pillow fight—

Beomgyu, who had twice been too afraid to go back to his house at night, instead staying over in the little container that was now Taehyun’s home—

Beomgyu, who sometimes had bloody spikes shoot out of his shoulder.

That had to hurt.

Was there anything else hurting Beomgyu?

What could Taehyun do to help him?

Yeonjun: “All you ever do is tell me how stupid I am!”

Soobin: “I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

Yeonjun: “Well that’s just great. Saying it’s all my fault for feeling this way.”

Soobin: “If you don’t study, you won’t get any smarter.”

He shifted over. Just an inch. So their shoulders touched. Beomgyu tensed for a moment, and then sighed quietly and let his full weight lean against Taehyun.

##

Soobin wasn’t sure what Kai was getting at. Why he’d brought up the animosity here, in the middle of his birthday party. Surely he knew what would happen.

Strange, though, that Kai’s aunt wasn’t interfering. She’d stopped the pillow fight before anything got broken. Why let this heated argument continue?

“He just let you go off on your own!” Yeonjun said, to Kai this time. “Don’t you get it? It’s dangerous out there and he told you to go.”

Kai flushed a little. “I’m not a baby,” he said, “I can get around on my own.”

“Yeah,” Soobin interjected, “He’s fifteen, and you’re always treating him like he’s six.”

“You’re the one who gave him a stuffed dolphin for his birthday!”

Maybe not the best choice of gift. But he’d seen it in the mall a couple weeks ago and had to buy it. It fit with the theme of his actual gift to Kai. Also, he thought maybe having a cute and natural stuffed animal in his room might distract Kai from thinking about horrific monsters all the time.

That would take too long to explain.

“At least I didn’t give him a fake protection spell,” Soobin snapped instead.

“It’s not fake! I did it just like the book said!”

“If you’d have read the next book I gave you,” Soobin said, trying to keep his words calm, “You’d have known that all of those alchemical spells were later debunked.”

Yeonjun’s heartbeat was off the charts, and his breath suddenly got short. “What the bloody hell am I supposed to do, then? How can I keep him safe? Reading books isn’t helping anything!”

“They are telling us something,” Soobin said, “It’s not much, but with time”—

“I don’t have time!” Yeonjun shouted, “I don’t! I don’t have powers and I can’t protect anyone and I don’t want to die before I can”—

His voice caught.

“Before I can”—

His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground.

“Before you can what?” Kai whispered.

Yeonjun stumbled back and sat on the couch. His eyes wide. His eyebrows drawing together. Heart still slamming against his ribs. He pressed his hands over his mouth. Collapsed in on himself, forearms on his knees.

His next breath was a sob you didn’t need superpowers to hear.

By the next, Kai was by his side. “Yeonjun,” he said, quiet. That was all. Kai carefully laid a hand on between his shoulder blades, and when Yeonjun didn’t resist, slowly started rubbing his back.

It was a few minutes like this. Their heartbeats and their breathing and Yeonjun’s sobs as he sat crumpled on the couch. Kai’s breath was full of tears, too.

Finally: 

“I’m afraid of… of dying,” Yeonjun said.

“It’s scary,” Kai said.

“And I… I know… I…” he choked for a minute, “I know how awful it is. How wrong it is right now. Because I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m not the god of the underworld. I’m just a kid. I’m just a…”

Just a kid.

“And I don’t want to be the reason you die,” he said, “I don’t want to be the reason you’re thrown into the chaos. With every book I read the more I learn how awful it is. How much more awful than… than it would be… if I could just…”

Kai laid his head on Yeonjun’s back and hugged him.

“I don’t want you to die and I don’t want me to die and I know I can’t… I can’t…”

His voice faded. Kai was crying now, his tears falling on Yeonjun’s shirt.

Soobin saw Yeonjun.

Not as Death.

But as someone just the same as Kai.

Sure, Kai might not have been in terrible danger that day in Incheon. But the danger was there. The danger was watching him. The danger wanted him dead.

The danger wanted Yeonjun dead even more.

And if they killed Yeonjun, not only would he die, but Death would still be in the hands of one who should not have it. Chaos would reign in the Underworld until another child came into the power.

How long until another Chosen would make it this far?

Ten? Twenty years? More?

Could the world survive that?

How, even, was Yeonjun supposed to save everything?

How did one go from being the Chosen human child to being Death himself?

What did it all mean?

What if Kai, who by all rights shouldn’t be involved with this, died as a result of it?

What if Yeonjun failed?

Seventeen really was not so old. Not nearly old enough to bear this weight. Soobin, Taehyun, Beomgyu… they all felt a part of it. Just a touch. And hadn’t just that smallest hint of the power, the responsibility, nearly crushed them?

Soobin walked to the couch.

Sat next to Yeonjun.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and carefully set his hand on the back of Yeonjun’s head. “I’m sorry I sent Kai to Incheon alone. I’m glad he was able to meet Mia, but it was still stupid. I didn’t think it through.”

Yeonjun shifted to the side and laid his head in Soobin’s lap. Still crying, but the sobs had faded to short hiccups.

_This was the dream._

Soobin started at the feeling in his mind. What was that?

Not important right now.

He ran his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair. Gently put his other arm over Kai, so the three of them were together.

“I don’t know what to do, either,” he said, “But we won’t stop trying. Not until we win.”

“Or we’re all dead,” Yeonjun said.

_This was the dream._

What did that strange thought mean?

“I’ll gladly take my place in chaos before Death can touch either of you,” Soobin said, and then looked up. “Any of you,” he added, looking at Taehyun and Beomgyu, who sat huddled together on the other couch.

“Same,” Taehyun said, and Beomgyu nodded in agreement.

It was a good ten minutes before Yeonjun spoke again. So quiet, Soobin thought he might be the only one who heard it.

“I forgive you, for sending Kai out alone.” His voice was less than a whisper. “And thank you. For… for…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Soobin understood.

##

Beomgyu waited two days after Kai’s birthday party to go to Taehyun’s again. He would have gone sooner, but his parents had some sort of governor over for dinner and wouldn’t let him leave.

Taehyun was looking a little better lately, now that Beomgyu had been taking him food and money, but it wasn’t enough. A fifteen-year-old boy shouldn’t be starving in Korea.

Today, Beomgyu was bringing even more. He stuffed his backpack with ramen and protein bars out of the cupboard. He’d even managed to slip thirty dollars away from his mother without being caught, the most he’d stolen so far.

He zipped up the backpack and—

His instincts screamed for him to stop.

To run to his bedroom.

Not to go see Taehyun.

He backed up towards the staircase. He’d go tomorrow. There’d be another time. Taehyun…

He’d eaten a lot at Kai’s party. Even Kai’s aunt had noticed, had commented that Taehyun might make himself sick if he had another serving of meat. Taehyun had stopped, but he hadn’t wanted to.

The jacket hid most of it. How skinny he was underneath it. It seemed most times when they talked, Taehyun was thinking about food. Trying not to talk about it, because he knew Beomgyu felt bad, but…

Beomgyu turned around. Walked boldly from the staircase in the direction of the door.

He’d get this food to Taehyun tonight if it—

“Where the hell are you going?”

Beomgyu jumped and skittered back towards the stairs, but his mother was blocking them. His father came towards him with strong, determined steps.

“Just going to see a friend,” Beomgyu squeaked, backing into the corner.

“Give me that backpack,” Father demanded.

Beomgyu tried to defy him for a moment, but just a moment. He handed it over. His father tore into it.

“Food,” Father said, looking back at mother, “Just like the maid said. And”—

He pulled out the money.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I earned it,” Beomgyu said.

He saw stars. Heat flashed through his face.

“Don't lie to me," Father said, "Where'd you get it?"

“I took it,” he said, holding his hand against his cheek. “From Mother’s wallet.”

He cringed and waited for another blow.

It didn’t come.

He looked up. His parents were staring at each other.

“Where were you going?” Mother asked, her voice unsteady.

“My friend’s house.”

“Bringing all this food?” Mother continued.

“He doesn’t have a lot of money. I don’t feel good eating what he has.”

“Where does he live?” Father asked.

Beomgyu shrugged. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted them to let him go. 

He was off the ground.

The collar of his shirt cutting off his breath.

“Mr. Kim said he thought he saw you near the train yard,” Father said. “Were you there?”

“Y-y-yes,” Beomgyu gasped, because he couldn’t breathe.

His head hit the wall. Again. Again. Father swearing. Shouting. Summed up: _why the hell do you associate with anyone from that part of town?_

Beomgyu felt for a moment he might die here.

For a moment, it didn’t seem so bad.

Just to end this.

“Calm down, he can’t breathe, you’re choking him”—

His mother.

He dropped into the corner, against the wall, gasping as quietly as he could.

“Beomgyu,” she said, calmly, “Look at me.”

Beomgyu didn’t.

“Look at me,” she said, more firmly.

He lifted his chin.

Her face was concerned.

“God, he’s going to have a bruise. We’ll have to cancel with the Choi’s,” she said. “We talked about this! You have to be more careful.”

“Honey, he has been hanging out in the train yard! You know that’s where he’s been taking this.”

“And gone overnight twice…”

“No one can know.”

“He has to stop.”

A deep coldness fell over Beomgyu as his parents looked at him. He wanted to shrink into the walls. Or to run past them, run out into the streets and all the way to Taehyun. Or Kai. Or Soobin or Yeonjun. Anyone, anywhere.

“We’ll have to watch him,” Father said. “He can’t go out with his friends, if they’re that sort of people.”

“See, Beomgyu,” his mother said, kneeling in front of him again, stroking his face like she cared. “Your father is an important man, with an important legacy for you. If people knew what you’ve been doing, it would be terrible for his reputation.”

What did they think he’d been doing?

“A scandal,” said his father.

Was taking food to a homeless boy a scandal?

“It could ruin him. So we’re going to have to keep a close eye on you.”

Beomgyu shook his head. “I don’t understand. Can I please go? My friend’s waiting.”

“No,” said Father.

“You can’t leave, unless for school,” Mother said, “We’ve spoken about it over the past few weeks, and it seems to be the best plan.”

“What’s that mean? I’m trapped here now?” Beomgyu said.

His mother took his face between her hands. Her nails pressed into his skin. “You aren’t trapped,” she said, cooly, “You’re protected. Any friend who needs you to take them food is only taking advantage of you. We’re just keeping your safe.”

“You’ll find better friends, come fall,” Father said, “I’m looking into getting you into a private school.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Mother said, “To make friends of your same status.”

“But I love the friends I have now,” Beomgyu said.

Mistake.

His mother hit him, this time. Carefully. So it hurt, but the mark would be gone in an hour.

“Go to your room,” she said.

He looked one more time towards the door.

Beyond Mother. Father. A gateway to freedom. If he ran for it…

His father might kill him.

He turned and limped up the stairs.

Away.

It hurt to breathe.

It hurt to walk.

It hurt to think.

And he knew his parents were being honest.

They weren’t going to let him leave.

He couldn’t take Taehyun food.

He couldn’t even see him, or any of them.

They’d probably found out about him skipping his English classes.

The door might be guarded.

He’d never get out.

He stumbled down the hall.

Burst into his room.

Locked the door behind him.

It no longer felt safe.

It felt stifling. Like his father’s hands were still around his neck. 

He walked over to his window.

The drop was thirty feet at least, down onto the highway. The windows were sound proof, but he could open them because of fire codes.

He undid the latch and slid the window up.

There had been a ladder, before, tucked just under the sill on the outside. So, if the worst happened, and fire consumed this place, he could get out.

So if the worst happened, and his parents trapped him in here, he could escape.

He reached under the sill.

The cubby was empty.

The ladder was gone.

They’d planned this.

Before they even had solid proof.

He was cornered.

There was no way out.

He stared down at the highway.

He might survive the fall.

But if he timed it right…

What was the speed limit down there? 60? 65?

He’d die for certain.

Imagine the scandal:

_Heir to company fortune commits suicide! Autopsy reveals signs of abuse!_

With the nature of his father’s company, that would be devastating. Their lives would fall apart.

And he’d be dead.

His human body so broken his soul would certainly fly to the Underworld. Away. Free. No more being trapped, no more running, no more instincts.

He climbed into the windowsill.

Trucks and cars sped by below.

This was it.

They’d blocked him in.

This was the only way out.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

He should throw it first. Make sure it shattered. Break any connection he had to his friends. Didn’t want them dragged into this.

He pulled out his phone.

Looked at the screen.

The text was from Taehyun.

_Where r u?_

No matter.

He pulled his arm back to throw it.

BUZZZZ.

He looked at the screen.

Taehyun: _cmon pls txt back._

He didn’t want to text back.

He wanted to forget Taehyun.

Taehyun: _theres police a few blocks away. some sort of robbery. probably should take the route on 4th instead._

He waited.

Taehyun: _just tell me ur ok._

Taehyun: _beomgyuuuuuuu_

Taehyun: _where r u_

He opened his phone.

Beomgyu: _Sitting in my windowsill._

Taehyun: _ah darn couldnt get out??_

Beomgyu: _I don’t want to be here anymore._

Taehyun typed. Stopped typing. Typed some more. Stopped. More. Beomgyu stared at the screen. His legs dangled over the edge.

Taehyun: _what do u mean?_

What could he say to that? This was the last conversation he’d ever have. He didn’t feel like lying.

Beomgyu: _I can’t do it anymore_

Taehyun, immediately: _huh?_

Beomgyu: _i want to die_

Taehyun: im calling you and if you dont pick up ill call the police

His phone buzzed, and Taehyun’s face showed up on the screen.

No matter.

Beomgyu went to throw his phone—

But—

Would Taehyun really call the police?

They’d be too late for Beomgyu. He was two seconds from death. Just stand and jump.

But Taehyun…

He’d be pulled into it.

They’d see his eye.

The government would probably take him to a secret lab and torture him and run tests on him as they tried to find out what magic lay within him.

Beomgyu answered the video call.

He left his camera off.

“Hello,” he said.

“Beomgyu, thank God. You’re not serious, right? You’re just”—

A particularly loud truck rumbled by below.

“God, are you really sitting in your window?”

“It’s such a long way to fall,” Beomgyu said. The distance seemed dizzying. He was nearly certain now he’d be dead when he hit the pavement. No need for the cars.

“Please,” Taehyun said, “Get out of the window. Let me see you.”

“No,” Beomgyu said.

“Are you looking at me? Come on, even if I can’t see you, you have to look at me. You have to give me that.”

Beomgyu didn’t want to look at the screen.

He didn’t want to see Taehyun.

“You can’t jump, okay?” Taehyun said, “You can’t. We need you. Yeonjun and Soobin and Kai and… and…”

Beomgyu almost looked at the screen, but he resisted.

“I need you,” Taehyun finished.

“I know,” Beomgyu said, “And I can’t be there for you.”

“You are! You always are. No one else noticed, and you did! You noticed, Beomgyu. You’re there.”

Beomgyu didn’t respond.

He held his phone facedown in his lap, and stared down at his feet, hanging thirty feet above the highway.

“Say something. Please. I don’t know what to do. Should I call Soobin?”

“No,” Beomgyu said.

“This won’t fix anything,” Taehyun said. “Why? You’re…”

Another car raced by, and Taehyun swore.

“My parents found out,” Beomgyu said, “They found out I was helping you. Someone saw me in your neighborhood. And they’re locking me in this house until school starts, and I’ll probably be going to a different school when it does, and I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“That’s no reason to die,” Taehyun said.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Beomgyu said.

“When you said ‘my parents will kill me,’ you really meant it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Beomgyu said, “And now they have.” 

He should stand up. So he could really jump. Add a few more feet to how far he’d fall. Guarantee that he’d break his neck.

Taehyun must have heard him move.

“Beomgyu, stop, please! You can’t die!”

There was more fear in his voice than Beomgyu had ever heard from something besides his own instinct.

Beomgyu didn’t want to, but he found himself lifting the phone.

He saw Taehyun.

Standing in his container house. Bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. One eye glowing with a star, the other human and horror-struck.

“It would hurt you, if I was dead?”

“God, yes!”

“Even if I can’t bring you any food?”

“I don’t fricking care about the food!”

Beomgyu’s breath stuck in his throat.

He suddenly felt dizzy.

He scrambled back.

Fell off the windowsill.

The phone clattered onto the floor.

Pain shot up his back as his tailbone hit the hardwood in his bedroom.

Taehyun was screaming.

Why?

_God._

He thought Beomgyu jumped.

Beomgyu lunged for the phone. Turned on his camera.

“I’m still here,” Beomgyu said.

Taehyun cussed him out until emotion cut off his voice.

Beomgyu stood up and closed the window.

Taehyun still couldn’t speak.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Beomgyu asked.

“Yes,” Taehyun said.

“Liar.”

“Snack sized bag of potato chips. But it was really tasty, and I’m okay, it’s not like I did much today”—

Something broke inside Beomgyu.

God.

What was he _doing_?

Why did he think dying would help?

“Are those bruises on your neck?” Taehyun asked.

Beomgyu nodded. He couldn’t see Taehyun anymore. His eyes were all blurry.

“You need to get out of there. Don’t worry about the food. Just get here, now, and we’ll get”—

“I can’t,” Beomgyu said. “They’ve got me locked in.”

“I’ll call the police, then, and they’ll”—

“No,” Beomgyu said, “You can’t. They’ll find out what I am and they’ll kill me.”

Taehyun swore some more. Not at Beomgyu. Just in general.

“Is there fricking anything we can do?” Taehyun said. “I hate feeling this fricking helpless.”

“Does your phone have a charge?” Beomgyu asked.

“Like ninety percent.”

“Don’t leave me until it dies, okay?”

“Oh, hell, I’m not leaving you again, ever.”

##

Taehyun’s phone lasted all night.

Almost like a miracle.

He’d drifted on and off, in this stuffy little house. On the other end of the connection, so had Beomgyu, in his air conditioned prison.

“Hey,” Taehyun said. It was eight o’clock.

“Hmm?” Beomgyu opened his eyes.

“I’m at five percent. I’m gonna go find somewhere to charge it.”

“Okay. Try to find some food, too?”

“Yeah. Text me every twenty minutes, okay?”

“Yup,” Beomgyu said, and let his eyes drift closed again.

Taehyun sat up.

Pulled on his leather jacked despite the heat. Tightened his belt. If he got any skinnier, he’d have to punch yet another hole in it. He felt his ribs. Felt the hollow ache in his belly that had plagued him all summer, with only brief reprieves, like at Kai’s party. Oh, those wonderful pork ribs, with sauce and side dishes and kimchi and cake and…

His stomach twisted just thinking of it. Of the wonderful memory of not being empty.

He wondered what he looked like. There was no mirror here. He doubted the bulky jacket could hide him forever. If the others noticed…

They couldn’t.

They couldn’t know he lived here.

Sure, it wasn’t so bad that Beomgyu knew. Was almost maybe better. But Yeonjun and Soobin and Kai would try to help him in ways that took away his freedom. He couldn’t lose that.

He put on his sunglasses. Let the light fade away. Left his home. Stumbled a little, but not because of the blindness. 

He hoped the people at the youth shelter would feed him, and that they wouldn’t ask questions. That they’d let him charge his phone. That Beomgyu’s parents wouldn’t hurt him anymore. That they’d find a way to be happy, and together, again.

##

Soobin was in the library, thinking over his dream.

He didn’t see anything in the dream. It was all black. He heard, though. He heard…

_A stuttering heartbeat. Gasping breaths._

He smelled…

_Fire and metal and fear._

He felt…

He felt…

The feeling was still out of reach. Well, emotionally, he knew what it felt like: absolute panic. Like the world was ending. But there was a physical feeling as well, just beyond his memory.

A familiar step sounded down the hall. Further away than he usually heard these days. He touched his ears to make sure they hadn’t changed. Maybe he’d swing by the Woods before he went home tonight.

But not now.

Yeonjun opened the door and came in.

“Hey,” he said.

“Good to see you,” Soobin replied.

“I wanted to say sorry,” Yeonjun said.

“For what?” Soobin said.

Yeonjun sighed and dropped into his usual chair. “For being a jerk. For not telling you the truth. For letting my fear rule me and instead of explaining what I was feeling, just letting my anger take over instead. But, well. Explaining is really painful and I guess I’m also sorry I lost it like that and cried like a baby. Can you forgive me?”

“Apology not entirely accepted,” Soobin said, turning to a stack of books.

“The frick why not?” Yeonjun said, a spark in his voice.

“I accept most of it,” Soobin said, “The parts about you being a jerk and not telling me what was going on in your head. I can forgive you for that.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun said, uncertain.

“I won’t forgive you for crying, because there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s what I wish you would have done earlier. The honest truth and emotions you were feeling.”

Yeonjun didn’t say anything to that.

Soobin selected two books, then turned around. Yeonjun was staring at him, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, his mouth open.

Soobin went to him and set the books in his lap. “Did you listen to anything I told you?” He ruffled Yeonjun’s hair. “You’ve got a huge weight on your shoulders. I’m here to help you. And if that means listening to you cry, hey, I’ll do it. As long as you’re willing to do the same for me?”

“You? Cry?” Yeonjun said.

“I know, right? Can’t remember the last time I did. Getting angry is so much easier. But you should get reading.”

“Is there really nothing else we can do except read?”

“Just try!” Soobin said, and turned back to his chalkboard. A smile stole across his face as he heard Yeonjun gasp.

The books were on defense. How to protect yourself, with both magic (not true alchemy, but a kind that was safe) and practical means. They’d seemed boring and useless to Soobin the first time he’d read them, but after a second glance yesterday, he thought they were exactly the books Yeonjun needed.

They said nothing about dreams, unfortunately. Soobin would be left on his own to try and find out what his meant. But Yeonjun was a different person. Hell, Yeonjun was the boy who should be Death. He didn’t need to waste his time trying to figure out something so silly as—

So silly as—

No.

The dream wasn’t silly.

But it was Soobin’s, and the responsibility on discovering the meaning fell to Soobin alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Nap of a Star was the MV that really got me into TXT. I didn't know their names then, so I nicknamed them after their not-human characteristics, which was the inspiration for that part of the scene.
> 
> My first week of NaNo has been very successful, and I'm just a few scenes from finishing the rough draft of Part 7 :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and Part 4, Chapter 5 will be up on November 14th. There's a chance I'll feel ambitious and post a day early again, but it's a very small chance.


	28. Magic Island: Chapter 5

“I’m so sorry,” Mia said, “I wanted to drive out and find a signal on your birthday, but Mom said no.”

“It’s all good,” Kai said, “How was camping?”

“Actually, it was really awesome. My cousins are way more fun than I remembered. I haven’t seen them in years, and it turns out a couple of them are really into k-pop. So I was basically a celebrity. They wanted to know everything about Korea.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, everything. Cliff jumping and kayaking and hiking. We even saw a black bear! I thought it would eat us for sure, but it just went on its way.”

“You weren’t in danger, then?” Kai asked, concerned.

“Nah. My uncle had bear spray.”

“Bear spray?” Kai asked.

“It’s like this super strong pepper spray to use against bears if they charge you.”

She said it so lightly, almost joyfully. Kai was wondering why anyone would live in a place where mortal monsters that could kill you roamed the natural woods. He also wondered if bear spray might be of any use against actual monsters in a supernatural Wood.

“So, spill,” she said, “What happened with Yeonjun and Soobin? You went through with your plan, right?”

“Uh, yeah. It was… well, it went all right.”

“Just all right?”

Kai shrugged. “I guess they’re not fighting anymore. And I guess I had to do it, because they weren’t even acknowledging that anything was wrong. But…”

“Come on, Kai. You can tell me.”

“I didn’t know Yeonjun was so sad,” he said, “I don’t know if it’s just being Death or if it’s me or if it’s Soobin or what, but I wish he didn’t have to do this.”

“Ah,” Mia said, “The Reluctant Hero.”

“What?”

“He knows he has a great destiny, but he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t think he has what it takes. He’s going to resist to the last minute, before the plot pushes him into action.”

“That’s stupid,” Kai said, a little angrily.

“That’s how stories work,” Mia said.

“This isn’t a story. It’s life.”

“Life is stories.”

“You think this is fun, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it?” she asked, “That’s why we got into it, right? The desperate need to find out what made them special and exciting, so we, too, could be special and exciting?”

Kai sighed and flopped back on his bed. It was almost midnight. He’d have to be quieter, so he wouldn’t wake up his aunt. “Sure, at first. But now… After the monster at the airport… After my party…”

He trailed off and stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Mia said, “It’s hard to remember the reality of it, when I’m so far away from all of you.”

“Yeonjun cried for like forty five minutes,” Kai said, “And so did I. Sure, the magic seemed fun. Exciting. But I wish there was none of it and we were just normal friends and our biggest trouble was Beomgyu’s overprotective parents.”

“What?”

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?”

“We just got back to civilization last night, and I’m barely awake right now.”

“His mom and dad decided we’re too low-class for a rich boy like him to hang out with, so he’s not allowed to see us anymore.”

“That’s no fair!”

“I know, right? They might even send him to a different school next year, which really sucks. We’re working on a plan to stop that from happening, but who knows if it will work.”

“How’s he going to get to the Woods?” Mia asked, concern lacing her voice, “He can’t hide the spines forever.”

“We have a school trip tomorrow,” Kai said, “The summer one for high school students, to a few museums in the city.”

“Sad I’m missing it,” Mia said.

“I know, right? But anyways, we’re going to play hooky and sneak off to Ttukseom instead. The teachers will be too scared to tell Beomgyu’s parents that they let him slip away, so as long as we’re back with the group before they head back, we’re in the clear. Get to hang out with Beomgyu, go to the forest, and break some rules at the same time.”

“Now I really hate that I’m not there,” Mia moaned.

“I thought you loved the camping trip?”

“I did! But now that it’s over, I’ve got nothing to look forward to except a trip to a theme park. Three weeks of boringness, coming right up.”

“I’m sorry,” Kai said.

“Such is life,” she said. “Anything else going on?”

“Soobin let me hang out in his library yesterday,” Kai said.

“Really? Was it as awesome as we thought it would be?”

“To be totally honest, it was kind of boring. I mean, he had me read a few pages aloud to him, all about dreams. Said he’s been having nightmares lately, and is trying to figure out if they mean anything.”

She propped her phone up against something on her bed, and started ripping a brush through her messy hair. “What sort of pages?”

“Some of it was just sciencey stuff on the nature of dreams, and some of it seemed straight out of a horror novel.”

“Was it?”

“No. He said it was from some Chinese guy’s journal. A hundred years old or something. If it was really someone’s journal, I’m pretty sure he was high on something. It was pretty out there.”

Kai stared at her through the phone screen as she finished brushing her hair. She yawned and pulled off her glasses so she could rub her eyes. “Gosh, I’m so tired.”

“Me, too.”

“I have to go have breakfast soon.”

“If my aunt knew I was still awake, she wouldn’t be happy.”

“Sooo… it’s goodbye?” Mia yawned again.

“Just for now,” he said.

“You’re all staying safe, right?”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s befriending bears.”

“Good. Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kai said.

“Three more weeks,” she said.

“And we’ll be together,” he said.

##

Taehyun waited in the crowd of students outside of school.

He was hoping not to be noticed.

He was actually wearing his school uniform. Because of the brightness of the day, his sunglasses didn't look weird. His hair was getting a little long, but it wasn’t ridiculous yet. And, hey. Plenty of boys grew their hair out these days. A haircut seemed to be a luxury he wouldn’t be affording for a while.

He couldn’t see a thing, but he knew they would come.

They had to come.

Yeonjun startled him. Slapped him on the shoulder. “Beat us all here?” he said, then paused. “How come you’re so skinny when you eat more than all of us?”

“Fast metabolism?” Taehyun suggested, smiling awkwardly.

Kai showed up next, out of breath. “Gosh! I can’t believe they’re taking this many students to a museum. I don’t envy the teachers.”

“You wouldn’t blame them if a couple kids happened to sneak away,” Soobin said, joining them.

“We should probably head to our buses,” Yeonjun said, “They’re dividing by grade.”

“Come on, Tae,” Kai said, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

“Wait,” Taehyun said, “Where’s Beomgyu?”

“He texted twenty minutes ago,” Yeonjun said.

Taehyun stared at him like he was an idiot.

“Oh, yeah. Duh,” Yeonjun said, “He said he didn’t want to be seen near us until we were in the city. Thought his parents might stick around and make sure he got on his right school bus.”

Of course.

It didn’t make Taehyun feel any better.

He hadn’t seen Beomgyu since Kai’s party, not in person.

So much had happened since then.

What if they wouldn’t let Beomgyu come?

Beomgyu needed to get into the Woods, if he wanted to keep his power hidden. He needed to see his friends. He needed to know that he wasn’t trapped. That there was a way out, a real way out, that wasn’t jumping out his bedroom window and breaking his neck.

Kai led Taehyun towards the bus for incoming sophomores. At least, he assumed it was the sophomore bus. With someone showing him the way, all of his skills in navigating through the darkness disappeared. He was completely at Kai’s mercy.

If Kai led him into the middle of the street, he couldn’t resist.

If Kai suddenly stuck a knife between his ribs, he wouldn’t see it coming.

God. That was a terrible thing to think.

Kai wouldn’t hurt him.

Not now, at least.

Taehyun liked to hope not ever, but he knew that hope was false.

It was just a matter of time.

##

It had nearly driven Beomgyu crazy. He’d seen Taehyun, when he first arrived at the school. But his parents were watching, so he couldn’t go say hi. And there were too many people around for Taehyun to sense he was there.

Soobin and Yeonjun and Kai all joined him, and Beomgyu tried not to look at them from his crowd of classmates. No one else of their friend group was his same age, so he wouldn’t have anyone to sit with on the bus. He could text them, of course, but…

They’d been so close.  
The following forty-minute bus ride was excruciating.

Beomgyu stepped off the bus, and into freedom. He felt more confident than he had in a long time.

No one was watching him who wanted to do him harm.

He saw Soobin and Yeonjun first and rushed over to them. “Hi, guys!” he said. Yeonjun fist-bumped him, and Soobin nodded at him and smiled.

“Long time no see, bro,” Yeonjun said, “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to fix this.”

“I dunno,” Beomgyu said, “My parents are really strict when they want to be.”

“Hey, I’m the king of the frickin’ underworld,” Yeonjun said, “I’d like to see some puny mortals try to stop me.” 

Beomgyu laughed despite himself.

“Hey! Beomgyu!” Kai’s voice.

He turned and saw the younger two rushing towards them.

“Yo!” Beomgyu shouted.

Kai stopped once they reached the circle, but Taehyun didn’t. He threw his arms around Beomgyu and hugged him.

“Whoa,” Beomgyu said, “Missed you, too.”

As Beomgyu hugged him back, he could still feel far too much of his shoulder blades through his worn school sweater. He claimed he was eating at the youth shelter, and even sent Beomgyu pictures of his meals, but it obviously wasn’t enough.

Taehyun didn’t let go until it was almost awkward.

“If we’re done with the the emotional reunions,” Yeonjun said, “Shall we slip away into the night?” A mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Lead the way, oh great King of the Dead,” Beomgyu said.

##

Soobin snapped into wakefulness. He’d never fallen asleep on the metro before, but things had changed.

The dream hadn’t stopped.

It had picked up in frequency. He woke up for or five times every night, and was unable to fall back asleep for at least half an hour. Sometimes, he woke freezing cold and drenched in sweat. Other times, what woke him was falling from his bed onto the floor. Once, he’d been screaming so loud his mother had had to come wake him.

_“Just a bad dream.”_

_“Want to tell me about it?”_

_“I can’t hardly remember it.”_

A few more details had become clear. For example, they were all in it. All five of them. He couldn’t hear or see them. But he felt their presence.

And he felt the fear.

Panic.

From a cause that was just out of his reach.

He glanced around the train car. Yeonjun had just stood up across from him to grab his backpack from the overhead shelf. He had a little bit of a smirk on his face, like he was planning something. He sat down and pulled out his phone.

Soobin’s buzzed a minute later.

Yeonjun, to the group text: _did you hear that the volleyball team claims they saw a ghost in the gym mirror?_

Beomgyu: _A ghost? Sweet._

Beomgyu and Taehyun were standing near one of the doors. Taehyun had earbuds in. As they’d been waiting in the metro station, Beomgyu had set up a text-to-sound setting on his phone, so he could hear any texts they sent.

Taehyun: _I heard soment of the spohomor girls talking abot it on the bus. I don’t thnik any monstrse would reddel themdnsles to a group of girls with no connedtion to us and hters no scud thign as ghsodts. So wheoves thoguhs they saw it wsaa probbaly just overtired._

Really, not half bad for a text from a blind kid. 

Soobin: _I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Do you think it’s because I’m tired?_

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything about it, but he felt compelled to.

Kai: _Did you have more nightmares?,/i >_

_Kai was furthest from them. He’d found an empty handhold towards the end of the train car. Soobin glanced towards him. The kid had really started to get tall this summer. By the time school started, it wouldn’t have surprised Soobin if he surpassed Yeonjun._

_Soobin started to type: _In my dream, we…__

_He stopped._

_Deleted._

_He didn’t know what they did in his dreams._

_All he knew is they were there, and he was terribly afraid. There were other emotions, too, but fear was the only one he recognized._

_Yeonjun: _ah dont think too much about it. i just thought it was interesting.__

_Beomgyu: _If I could sneak out I’d definitely go to the school at night and take a look. I’d even chant Bloody Mary or whatever else they’re trying to call up these days. Who’s with me??__

_This seemed a little dramatic from Beomgyu, but he had been trapped in his room for at least a week._

_Kai: _Come on guys. Let’s stop talking about scary things.__

_Taehyun: _I tihkk beomgyus just triyng to get rvenge for us clliang him mr pridnkslay but im nto fallig forit.__

_Despite his knowledge of linguistics, Soobin wasn’t sure if he could fully interpret that._

_Yeonjun: _Let’s just get off at Ttukseom. It’s the next stop.__

_It was._

_Soobin knew this stop._

_They’d come here so many times before._

_No more than ten, really, but it felt like a hundred. Because of the time loop this spring? Maybe. Maybe…_

_They all stood up, preparing to get off. Backpacks and school uniforms and cell phones. Taehyun hadn’t had a phone until recently. It was a nice one, too. Lots of storage, great battery life. Steep price, though._

_They waited._

_Soobin pushed up his soundproof headphones._

_Something was wrong._

_He needed to be in the Woods._

_But that... wasn’t it._

_No._

_A section of text fell on his mind._

_What was it?_

_A protection spell._

_The one Yeonjun had most likely tried to put on the key he gifted to Kai._

_Was Kai wearing it today?_

_God, why did Soobin feel like he needed it? It had been proven wrong, the studies said._

_He opened his phone anyways._

_Tapped the Notes app._

_Pressure built around them._

_He glanced at Yeonjun as he typed rapidly._

_Yeonjun felt it too._

_He felt—_

_The last letters fell into place and—_

_##_

_Four Hours Earlier_

_Soobin sat cross legged on his bed. The official translation of six full pages of that Chinese memoir lay in front of him. Thirty bucks, it had cost him, and he wasn’t sure it was worth it._

_His phone rang._

_A video call from—_

_Mia?_

_He answered it._

_“I need to talk to you,” she said._

_“Well, I’m here,” he said._

_“I talked to Kai this morning—err, last night, over there—and he said you’ve been having nightmares.”_

_Soobin blushed. “What’s Kai doing, talking about me behind my back?” he said, “I told him that in confidence.”_

_“Oh, stop being a baby. We’re in too deep for that. Anyways, I’ve been thinking about it all day. First off, you fighting with Yeonjun”—_

_“Kai told you that, too?”_

_“--And then these dreams, and you asking Kai to help you instead of Yeonjun. I’m just… I’m worried.”_

_“Back up,” Soobin said, “What?”_

_She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve just had a bad feeling, ever since I left Korea. With everything that’s happening, it just feels like something big is coming.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“What are your dreams about?” she asked._

_“I’d rather not share,” he said._

_She glared at him through the phone screen. “Come on, man. Unless they aren’t appropriate to share with a fifteen-year-old girl?”_

_“You’re fifteen?”_

_“Will be, next week. Don’t change the subject. Tell me what your dreams are like.”_

_Soobin wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to. Mia was one of them wasn’t she? Just as much as Kai._

_But._

_No._

_She’d never been to the Woods._

_She didn’t have wings._

_She was just a human girl._

_Only interested in Faerieland because she had no friends._

_He almost told her that, but—_

_No._

_He’d get to the Woods today. No need to let the grating in his ears make him act like a jerk._

_“It’s hard to say what the dream is about,” Soobin said._

_“It’s just one dream?”_

_“Yes. The same one. I feel different things each time, but it’s still the same, if you know what I mean?”_

_“Talk me through it.”_

_He talked her through it. The darkness and the feelings and the sounds and the dread. How he knew all five of them were there, even though he couldn’t see them. How there was an overwhelming sense of something, just beyond his reach._

_“That doesn’t tell me much,” Mia said._

_“Sorry to disappoint you.”_

_Her eyebrows drew together, and she looked out into the distance beyond her phone. “Yeonjun, he…”_

_“He what?” Soobin asked._

_“He really doesn’t want to be Death, does he?”_

_“No.”_

_“Not even after your adventure in the Woods? Where he learned he wasn’t alone?”_

_“He still doesn’t want it,” Soobin said, “Can you blame him?”_

_“No, I can’t. It’s a huge burden. Especially seeing as we have no idea how he’ll take back his rightful crown, because we’re trapped in the present moment. But I’m still worried.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I’ve already determined Yeonjun’s a Reluctant Hero, which means he’s not taking to this quest willingly. I’m just afraid he’s too… reluctant.”_

_“This isn’t a novel,” Soobin said, “We’re people, not caricatures.”_

_“So you think everything will be okay if Yeonjun keeps fighting to not be Death?”_

_“No,” Soobin said._

_“I’m afraid…” she started._

_He just looked at her for a minute. This little American girl with golden hair and a perfect Korean accent. This girl who had no reason to be concerned with them, yet was, anyways. It was even more odd than Kai. Soobin assumed Kai’s longing for magic came from trauma in his past. But Mia, well. Her father had died, sure, but she didn't remember him and her stepdad seemed nice. What could be so wrong in her world that she longed for another one?_

_“Don’t worry about us,” Soobin said, “We’ll be fine. We’re going to Ttukseom Park today, all of us. In fact, I need to leave soon. You just have a great rest of your summer and”—_

_“I can’t,” she said, “I can’t have a great rest of my summer. If Yeonjun doesn’t accept his destiny, I’m afraid he’ll”—_

_##_

_Now_

_A great swirling cloud surrounded Soobin. Voices he couldn’t quite distinguish. Pain he couldn’t quite feel. The horrible sense that whatever Mia had thought would happen was happening, _right now_ , and if only he remembered what she'd said, he could stop it._

_The rush was too strong. Up was down and left was right and it was COMING_

_Soobin did not remember._

_All he knew was the protection spell._

_He thought the words, over and over, as he gripped his phone and waited for the chaos to end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4, Chapter 5 will be posted next Saturday, November 21.


	29. Magic Island: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday night instead of Saturday this week :P I foresee tomorrow being crazy busy... so I figured I'd post the chapter tonight, just to be safe.

The Star was not awake, but the Star felt the calling.

What was rushing him?

What was calling on him so desperately?

He was too old.

Too slow.

But his name was called.

His protection needed.

He knew not if it would do any good. He was still asleep. He would never wake again. Barely any fire remained within him.

The calling echoed. Begged. Pleaded.

He probably could not spare this spark. His end would be hastened by giving it.

He gave it anyways.

##

A fear he’d never known hit Yeonjun as the metro burst out into the light.

He cringed, closing his eyes against Death—

A million things flooded his head as he waited for the pain and—

Clarity.

The metro stopped.

He opened his eyes.

The sky outside was not blue.

They were alone. The five of them. The crowds from earlier—

(Earlier? What was earlier?)

Soobin. Kai. Beomgyu. Taehyun—

Taehyun took off his sunglasses.

His eyes were normal. Human eyes, both of them. No stars.

“Where are we?” he asked.

The door opened, and the freshness of the air pulled Yeonjun out.

“Yeonjun, wait,” Soobin said, but half-heartedly. “It could be…”

Could be what?

What could be wrong here?

The breeze was sweet. He could not see the grass beneath his shoes, but he felt it. And just ahead, the Wood, their Wood, (wasn't it?), waiting for them. Waiting to comfort them and let them come home.

He hoped the others would follow him.

##

Soobin heard the birds.

It was all he heard.

Singing sweetly, and…

The chirruping of crickets.

Sweet, natural sounds.

Woodsy sounds.

Quiet sounds.

They were in the trees, and they were home.

Safe.

All five of them.

Soobin felt the waves of relief coming from Beomgyu. Here, finally, he was safe.

Soobin touched his own ears.

They were human, just like Taehyun’s eye, and Beomgyu’s shoulder, and Yeonjun’s head, and Kai’s back.

He became aware that his phone was in his hand.

That his headphones were around his neck. 

Why would he to block the sound of this place? Sound was a wonderful thing, at the right volume.

But his phone was in his hand, and he thought that was important.

He glanced at it.

No signal.

Blank screen.

Not loading.

Strange. Didn’t he always have signal at—

At—

The place they were going?

The place they had arrived at?

The place they had never been before?

What was he forgetting?

The sweet warmth surrounded him, but he still felt odd. Like the smartphone in his hand was his only connection to reality. That he needed to talk to someone, to know something, to stop something from happening.

His phone buzzed a little.

He glanced at the screen.

The alert had not come from a notification.

It was to tell him his battery was dead.

##

Kai was so glad to be back in the woods.

He remembered sneaking away from their classes. Getting on the metro. Standing far apart, partly due to the crowdedness, and partly to look a little less conspicuous.

He did not remember going to Ttukseom.

He did not remember the park. The quiet corner. The passage into the Woods.

But they were in the Woods (weren’t they?), so they must have gone through the gateway.

And if they were in the Woods, what did it matter how they’d gotten there?

He still had his school bag, and he didn’t have his wings. The colors were vibrant. The birds were singing. There were no spiders.

That was a little wrong.

But—

It was the Wood Between the Worlds. Nothing was consistent here.

(Except his wings. Their lack should have been concerning, but the more he thought about it, the less concerned he was).

He spotted something—

A dragon?

No.

A dragonfly.

There, in that patch of weeds.

Could he catch it?

He felt incredibly large and clumsy as he crept towards it. He remembered… _someone_ … saying something… buying him new pants, because he was too tall for his old ones…

The bug didn’t move.

He reached towards it and grabbed it by the wing.

It still didn’t move.

A rush of joy went through him, as he stared at its carefully constructed body, its beady eyes, its lacy wings. So beautiful, so delicate, and still as death.

“Kai! Yeonjun’s starting a campfire!”

The voice pulled him from reality back to the woods.

##

Yeonjun burned himself.

_Wrong._

Because he hadn’t touched the fire.

Not even come close.

He lit it. No pain. Blew out the match. Watched the campfire roar to life in front of him. Funny how fast it lit. And then—

“Damn,” he muttered to himself. He pressed the red mark on his knuckle to his mouth.

Waved the others over.

The sky wasn’t blue here.

(Was there even a sky here?)

They sat together around the fire.

Laughing and joking.

Soobin, without a sign that the Noise was overwhelming him.

Taehyun, both his eyes brown and human, looking so happy to simply see.

Kai, who suddenly looked very grown-up in the light of the fire, his legs stretched awkwardly in front of him. Yeonjun suddenly couldn’t remember which of the two of them was taller.

And Beomgyu—

It wasn’t simply that Beomgyu didn’t look scared. It was as if he had transcended fear. That he would never be afraid again.

A sound cracked through Yeonjun’s consciousness.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Wasn’t there something to fear in the Woods?

Especially for him, the boy who should be Death? 

(The boy who should be Death but wasn’t yet?)

Something was watching him.

He didn’t want to know what.

He wanted to be happy. If just for a little while. To be unafraid.

##

Taehyun knew this couldn’t be real when Beomgyu pulled sparklers out of his backpack.

“Where’d you find firecrackers?” Taehyun asked.

“I didn’t,” Beomgyu said, boldly. “I wanted them, though. And here they are!”

“This is so much fun,” Kai said, and he took off his uniform shirt. He was wearing a t-shirt underneath. They all were. Because of course, what Kai began, they followed.

This seemed both odd and perfectly normal, as they all transformed from schoolboys into punk kids.

Taehyun knew he hadn’t been wearing a t-shirt under his uniform this morning. He’d washed everything he owned besides the uniform last night, and it was all hung around his container house, drying in the heat.

So why was he wearing one now?

The thought fell away as Beomgyu handed him a sparkler.

“Won’t we start a forest fire?” Taehyun asked.

“No,” Beomgyu said, “We can’t hurt anything here on the Island.”

The madness began after that.

##

How wrong it was, how gloriously wrong. To feel the flames, to see the fire catch, to run about as if none of this mattered.

Because it didn’t matter.

Beomgyu knew this.

There was no need to be afraid.

He felt power, true power, as he spun the fire around. It burned, but it did not burn him.

Did not burn them.

They all held the flames.

Soobin knew something.

But he couldn’t do anything.

If he knew what Beomgyu knew, he wouldn’t be trying anymore.

Finally, they were all through it.

The fear was over.

Beomgyu alone knew, but the others would soon realize:

This was a Gateway. Not to the Woods, but to the Underworld. There was no need to fight it anymore.

When you died, the pain stopped.

##

The fire burned, it crackled, it whispered, and Soobin—

Soobin couldn’t _hear_.

There was something, just beyond him.

Beomgyu seemed far too happy. It was an awful thing to think. Of course, he wanted Beomgyu to be happy, to not be so scared, but this… this recklessness, this euphoric joy on his face, it wasn’t _right._

Just like Taehyun’s eyes, both brown and wide open.

Just like Soobin’s hearing, muted to what was, he assumed, a human level.

What was he trying to hear?

What was he trying to… remember?

As Beomgyu let a flaming lantern (where the hell had that come from?) fly into the woods, Soobin glimpsed something in a reflection.

A student.

Wearing a similar uniform, but with a skirt instead of pants.

He didn’t know her name right now, but…

As he looked, he _heard._

He was walking along the course of a stream with a blonde girl. Someone he knew, but he didn’t know how, or where. Her voice blurred, and he tried to listen, knowing she was saying something important.

Clarity came at last, but he knew he’d missed something.

_“I don’t want to keep you,” the girl said._

_“You’ve asked most of the questions, can I ask you one?”_

Soobin heard himself say it. Because this wasn’t happening here or now. The voices were old. Something that had happened before. In reality. Not here.

_“Shoot,” she said._

_“Do you like Kai?”_

Why had he asked that?

_He couldn’t clearly see the girls face, but he knew she was blushing. “Of course I like Kai! We’re best friends!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world._

_“I mean, do you love him?”_

_“Love is a funny word,” she said, “Lots of definitions.”_

_“Let me give you one,” Soobin said, “Do you want to be his girlfriend?”_

_“No,” she said, “I’m not old enough to be dating anyone.”_

Funny. Hadn’t she… hadn’t she thought she was old enough? At one time? Why couldn’t he remember?

_“Did I ever apologize for turning you down so rudely?”_

_“You haven’t,” she said._

_“I’m sorry,” he said, “I could blame the Noise, but we all know that’s no excuse.”_

_“If you were a normal boy, you wouldn’t have turned me down?” she asked._

_“Oh, I still would have,” he said._

_“Why?”_

_“Because…”_

Why had he turned her down?

(Why was she so damn straightforward?)

What was so wrong with Mia, that he’d so aggressively not wanted to go out with her?

_“I don’t think monsters are meant to fall in love,” he said._

_“That’s sad,” she replied. “But it might be true. I mean, even if you look human, you aren’t, not really.”_

_It still hurt to hear it._

_“Can I define love for you?” she said, from the other side of—_

The other side of _what_? Was she not really walking beside the stream with him?

_“Go ahead,” he said._

_She was quiet for a minute._

_“Alas,” he said, “Have you discovered there is no love for a monster like me?” His voice dripped with intentional melodrama._

_“No,” she said, “There’s just so many sorts of love, it’s hard to pick just one. Aha. Here. Try this: love is when you care so much about someone you’d die for them.”_

_“Romance sounds a lot more fun.”_

_“Shut up! You don’t have to actually die. It’s more of a sacrifice than that. You just set aside what you want, to help the other person, because you love them and you want the best for them and you’re never gonna give up on them. No matter what.”_

_“I think I’d prefer having a girlfriend.”_

She’d smiled, then. He knew she had. Even if he couldn’t see her face now.

_“It’s like what you did for Yeonjun the other day.”_

_“Does Kai tell you everything?”_

_“Pretty much. Anyways. Yeonjun’s your best friend, and even though you still don’t think Kai was in danger, you were willing to give that up so you could really see your friend’s perspective. And you stopped making him help you with the dreams, right? Which is why you dragged Kai in instead?”_

Whoever this girl was, she was smart. Could see right through him. He was wondering why he had turned her down.

_“I think friend-love is much stronger than romance,” she said, “Especially when we’re as young as we are. I’ve read enough shoujo manga to know that. Maybe someday I’ll be in love with Kai, but right now, I think I’m better off with just friend-love.”_

_“Friend-love,” he said, “I kinda like it.”_

Her face had gone dark, he remembered.

_“You think we’ll ever have to… have to face it?”_

_“Face what?”_

_“The greatest show of friend-love. Dying instead of your friends, for real. Like, as humans in this day and age, it very rarely happens. But with these feelings I’ve been having I’m just so scared when I come back to Korea something will have”—_

It was like feedback was in his mind, a sharp and echoing shriek.

The memory cut off.

All the important parts, too blurred to be of use. All he knew was the silly discussion of crushes and love in the middle.

The only thing remaining was the thought that, yes.

He’d come to love them. All of them. Yeonjun. Kai. Beomgyu. Taehyun. The girl, too, though he didn’t remember her name.

And he didn’t want to lose them.

But where were they?

Had they all been lost together?

##

Beomgyu knew they were dead.

He still was the only one.

Four of them were awake and laughing, the fire in their midst. The joy of the moment on their faces.

Kai, sweet Kai, was asleep. His head in Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu patted his arm. He hoped maybe Kai would stay asleep. Maybe he would never know the moment they went from the Gateway into the Underworld proper.

But how had they come to the Gate?

Beomgyu searched his memories.

Had he jumped? There, on the edge of his windowsill? Crashing to his death on the streets below?

Or before. Had his father’s hands gripped his neck too tightly? Choked him until his breath wouldn’t return?

Even further back—

(his heart was pounding, remembering it)

Hyunjin pinning him to the floor—

The cruelty in his cold face as he—

_No._

Beomgyu forced himself to laugh at something Taehyun said.

Ran his fingers through Kai’s hair.

(Thank god Kai had escaped from that evil human)

(If Beomgyu had been the reason and Kai had got hurt…)

(He’d have killed himself much sooner)

But he knew he hadn’t killed himself.

They’d died elsewhere, because they were dead together.

Not Beomgyu, alone, at the hands of a twisted upperclassman.

Not Beomgyu, alone, at the hands of his parents.

Not Beomgyu, alone.

Death was not something Beomgyu feared.

Sure, the Underworld was chaos, but so was the Overworld.

What came before death was the scary part. The pain. The blood. The breaking.

Now, that was over, and he couldn’t even remember how it happened.

Being dead was not so bad.

##

Yeonjun felt light, almost. Sure, there had been a few moments where this had felt wrong. The wrong Woods. Not their woods. If it had been their Woods, he’d have his horns and no headache, right? 

(Why was he just lacking the headache?)

But the calm.

Sitting around a fire.

Kai sleeping, safe and sound, his head in Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu himself looking relaxed and at home. Nothing at all strained in Soobin’s face. Taehyun’s eyes, both wide open, his smile true.

This was good, right?

There was nothing to hurt them.

The sky wasn’t blue.

The sky…

He glanced upwards.

It was… red?

It hadn’t been red before.

Why…

He stood up.

Looked around.

Oh, god.

##

“It’s been hours!” Beomgyu shouted, “It shouldn’t have been real. I didn’t think it was real!”

The fear was back.

Had Beomgyu done this?

Spoken the fire into existence?

The forest was alight.

Crackling, burning. The flames consuming everything. He heard Taehyun gasp. He turned, and saw Taehyun stepping back from a puddle of water—

A puddle of water that was on fire.

“I don’t think this is your fault,” Soobin said from somewhere near him.

Kai grabbed Beomgyu’s arm. “What’s going on?” he choked, “Why’s it all on fire? I didn’t think the Woods could burn like this!”

Was the Gateway opening?

Was this hell?

Had he been wrong? Was there more pain coming, even after death?

He caught a glimpse of Kai’s face. The youngest’s eyes filled with terror.

Pain ripped through Beomgyu’s shoulder. A scream he didn’t recognize as his own surrounded him as he crumpled to the burning ground. 

The dimension shattered, as did the illusion.

##

Soobin felt it would deafen him.

The shriek.

Not Beomgyu. His scream was very Human. This shriek, the ripping of reality itself, was at a frequency only Soobin could hear.

And within it…

The answer came to him.

_“If Yeonjun doesn’t accept his destiny, I’m afraid he’ll die,” she said._

Not just _she._

He knew her name.

Song Mia.

_“What?”_

_“If he keeps fighting it, if he keeps fearing it, he’ll be stuck in the beginning forever. The plot will leave him behind, and we know Death leaves no one.”_

_“That’s crazy.”_

_“It might not be him who dies, though,” she said, “It might be one of you, first. Push him over the edge. Either to be a hero or to give up entirely.”_

No.

Soobin could hear it now, in the midst of the chaos.

A laugh, echoing between frequencies.

The wrongful Death was _here._

Where was Yeonjun?

He had to protect him.

He’d promised.

The sound grew.

His knees hit the ground.

His forehead followed.

He knew he would die for Yeonjun, if given the chance.

He just hadn’t seen it coming.

##

Kai lost sight of them.

Pain shot through his chest.

A voice echoed in his head.

_Why can’t we get him Why can’t we get him Why can’t we…_

Over and over.

He tried to ignore it.

God, his heart…

Something was in his hand. The realization gave him clarity. The pain in his chest lessened.

He glanced at his hand.

The dragonfly.

Had he been holding it this whole time?

Looking at it, he knew why he’d been able to catch it.

It was dead.

Always had been.

It crumbled in his palm, the burning wind brushing its body away.

His heart tightened again.

His shoulder blades ached, but his wings were not here.

_Why can’t we have him Why can’t we have him Why can’t we_

He clutched at his chest as the pain went deeper.

He felt the key underneath his shirt.

The necklace Yeonjun had given to him.

His hand closed around it the key.

_We will have him We will have him YOU CAN'T STOP US_

There was a protection charm. Even if Soobin said it was fake. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t die here.

The heat of the fire vanished.

He felt his body flung forward

His face smashing into something.

Stars crowding everything as his head whipped back and—

##

Taehyun felt nothing.

The break in dimensions froze around him.

Blurs showed where the souls of his friends were.

But Taehyun?

He was free.

“Oh, sweet child,” said a cold Voice, “Oh, how much brighter you make things.”

A breath like a summer breeze surrounded Taehyun.

“There aren’t many of us left in the worlds,” the Voice continued, “We must stay together. Stay strong.”

Taehyun feared that if he spoke, this Thing would take him.

“Do not be afraid of me! I stand for us. For the odd-eyed. Those with the power to see the Three Realms as they are. The power to take what we need, to overpower those who see the blessed Midworld as just a highway betwixt two greater lands.”

He couldn’t keep back his question anymore. “Who are you?” he croaked. His throat still felt coated in the smoke of the fire.

“Me?” the Voice hissed, “Why, I am very much like you.”

_Eyes._

Taehyun felt them.

One green, one blue.

“You are aware that once _he_ finds out what you are,” the Voice said, and suddenly Soobin’s form was clear in the mist, “And he will find out, well… he’ll kill you.”

“No,” Taehyun said, “They’re my friends.”

“Friends? The odd-eyes have no friends. Anything we have, we have because we have taken it. Because, alone of the Midworlders, we have the ability to take it.”

The whisper came very close to him. “You are a monster, and you must not be afraid.”

Taehyun shook his head. A pressure built around him.

“Just wait,” the Voice said, “You’ll see what their sort does. They think they’re better, because of their human bodies. They think they’re different. They want to kill monsters. Once they know, they will kill you.”

Taehyun shook his head.

“If you see it in time,” the Voice said, “I’m waiting for you. And if you choose sooner, well… you could be very helpful to my cause.”

Taehyun shuddered.

“Very helpful, sweet child. You need not be afraid.”

The wind brushed his cheek, almost in a caress.

Taehyun jolted back into reality.

##

Yeonjun didn’t want to die.

Death was coming anyways.

Were they all dying?

Was that what the Island was?

(He knew it was not their Woods)

A place you went before the chaos of the Underworld took you?

Oh, god.

They were too young to die.

Kai especially.

Where was he?

Was there any way Yeonjun could save him, even now?

He forced his eyes opened. Looked around the blinding chaos.

He couldn’t see Kai.

But he did see… something…

In the distance.

The sound of wheels on a track—

A train coming—

Eyes—

Searching—

Looking for him—

He forgot Kai

Suddenly, it was all him.

His own life.

The Wrongful Death bearing down on him.

He heard a voice in his head.

One he knew well. One he hadn’t heard in a long while.

_FALL DOWN! NOW!_

He jerked backwards, hands instinctively covering his neck.

A shriek echoed around him.

A sharp pain tore through his middle—

A strange warmth spreading out under his ribs—

His head cracked against something hard and—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrrrry for the cliffhanger. Also, I hope this wasn't too confusing? It's supposed to be confusing, but, like... I hope no one got completely lost :P If you have any questions, please ask, and unless it's purposefully confusing and will be revealed in a future chapter, I'll do my best to explain.
> 
> Next Saturday, Nov. 28, I'll post Part 4, Chapter 7, which is the last chapter in Part 4.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	30. Magic Island: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day early again :P Bit of a shorter chapter today to finish off Part 4. Hope you enjoy.

Blackness. Fading to grey. Fading to…

“Yeonjun. Yeonjunie, please wake up. Please. You’ve got to be okay.”

Fuzzy.

Like he had cotton in his ears.

Yeonjun opened his eyes.

Everything felt heavy and sticky.

He had cotton in his mouth, too. Tongue too dry to function.

“Yeonjun, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I”—

Yeonjun tried to sit up.

Soobin—yes, it was Soobin, Soobin with tears in his voice and his eyes—held him down.

“You can’t move, okay. You’ve gotta stay still.”

“What… what happened…”

He wasn’t sure if the words came out how they should, but Soobin understood.

“The… I think… umm… the metro crashed.”

He remembered a moment of fear.

The rushing, all around them.

Then the Island. Sweet. Peaceful. Even better than the Wood.

Too good to be true.

The Eyes.

Now…

“Crash?” Yeonjun muttered.

“Yeah. It… it crashed.” Soobin’s hand brushed across his forehead. He felt Soobin’s tears dripping on his face.

Metro.

Crashed.

Pain wracking his body.

Soobin holding him and _crying._

The others…

“Are they… are they…” he couldn’t find more words.

But Soobin understood.

“Taehyun and Beomgyu seem fine. Bruises and stuff, like me. But you’re really hurt, and Kai…”

Soobin’s voice choked.

_Kai._

“No,” Yeonjun said, struggling.

“Please don’t move,” Soobin begged, “You can’t help him, we have to”—

Can’t help him?

What the bloody hell did that mean?

“Let me go!” Yeonjun said.

Soobin let him go.

He couldn’t sit up, so he rolled over. Pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The pain faded as adrenaline rushed through his veins.

He looked up.

He and Soobin were just to the side of the tracks.

The station ahead of them.

The train had come out of the tunnel and—

And—

The metro cars were all over the place. 

Crushed and burning.

Fire and smoke.

Hundreds of feet ahead of them.

Here?

It was just him and Soobin.

And—

There, twenty feet left of the tracks, were Taehyun and Beomgyu.

Kneeling over something.

He pushed himself to his knees. His feet. Stumbled across the tracks, towards his younger friends.

“Please, Yeonjun, you have to sit down…” Soobin begged.

Yeonjun didn’t listen.

He could walk.

He was fine.

A body lay between Taehyun and Beomgyu.

It had to be Kai.

He wasn’t moving.

His chin was tilted back at an odd angle.

He was still wearing the fake protection spell necklace.

“Kai,” Yeonjun croaked. Beomgyu turned towards him, the color all drained from his face.

Yeonjun collapsed to his knees.

Kai’s face was covered in blood. So much so, it was hard to tell it was him until you were this close.

“Kai, no,” Yeonjun said.

“He’s still alive,” Taehyun said. He was bent over Kai, holding his hand.

“Has anyone called an ambulance?” Yeonjun asked.

“They’re all over there,” Beomgyu said, shivering, “Where the trains are. Where the people are.”

“We’ve got to get him help,” Yeonjun said, struggling to stand again.

Beomgyu lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders, holding him down. “Yeonjun, stop!”

“But”—

“We can’t move Kai,” Taehyun said, “He might have hurt his neck. They’ll come. I know they will.”

A wave of sickness rolled over Yeonjun. If Kai had broken his neck…

“Well, let’s go get them,” Yeonjun growled, pushing the nausea down and pulling away from Beomgyu, “If he’s been out for this long he needs…”

“Stop, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu begged, “Please, just”—

“I’m fine!” Yeonjun gasped, “I’m bloody”—

Bloody…

Bloody… what?

Why couldn’t he _think_? Why was it so grey?

“Yes, you are,” Taehyun said, looking up, “And still bleeding.”

_Bleeding?_

“I’ll go for help,” Beomgyu said, “I think I can run.”

His feet skittered through the gravel as he ran off.

Things seemed to slow down around Yeonjun.

Kai’s still body, just off to the side. One eye open a little, staring at nothing. The other stuck shut with red. Soobin’s hands rested again on Yeonjun’s shoulders. Careful, like he was afraid Yeonjun might break. Taehyun, with both his eyes human, ignored the youngest and stared, horrified, at Yeonjun’s stomach.

Yeonjun looked down.

God.

He slumped back against Soobin.

He was covered in his own blood.

Seeping out of his belly.

He wanted to sit up.

He couldn’t.

The cotton fell back around his ears. The greyness in his eyes.

Soobin: “Can we stop the bleeding?”

Taehyun: “I can try.”

Soobin: “Where’s Beomgyu? Why’s no one coming?”

Taehyun: “God. He’s cut all the way across.”

He couldn’t pick out the words anymore.

As if on the edge of a dream, he felt Soobin’s face pressing into his hair. Tears running down. Tae holding something against his wound, but the blood kept coming.

##

Soobin held Yeonjun.

Fricking idiot.

Should have stayed still.

Soobin had been wanting him to wake up, but it would have been better if he stayed unconscious.

Walking over here, his stomach all torn up. The blood running everywhere. Freaking out about Kai and not realizing that—

That—

This could kill him.

The monster children were all okay.

Kai? 

It was worrying that he was still unconscious. The blood dripping over his face was scary, but his pulse was stable.

Yeonjun?

Soobin could barely hear his heartbeat. It fluttered and skipped as he fell limp against Soobin’s chest.

Taehyun pressed his school sweater against Yeonjun’s belly, but it didn’t seem to be helping anything.

_This was the dream._

Not in detail, but in emotion.

Monsters and humans.

Blood hot on his hands.

The boy who should be Death, dying in Soobin’s arms.

No, that wasn’t it:

Soobin’s best friend, dying in his arms.

“Come on, Yeonjun,” Taehyun whispered, “Just hold on.”

Soobin folded his arms around Yeonjun’s chest. Pressed his face into Yeonjun’s hair. Focused on the faint rasp of his breathing. The fluttering beat of his heart.

If only he’d been better…

If only he’d realized sooner…

Could he have stopped this?

“God, this is bad,” Taehyun muttered.

He knew no one would come for them.

When you had tasted Faerieland, reality didn’t want you anymore.

##

Beomgyu had never been so scared in his life.

Kai looked like he was dead.

Yeonjun looked like he was dying.

They were human and they needed help but help didn’t know where they were.

Help was here.

Death was here.

More than that, dying was here.

The screaming.

He stumbled over body who wouldn’t ever get up again.

Beomgyu didn’t want to go forward.

The masses of people. The smoking train cars. The panic and the sirens and the fear, fear, fear.

He wanted to run, run back into the dark metro tunnel, find a little outlet in the wall and crawl as far back into it as he could.

He needed to save Yeonjun and Kai.

He would be brave…

He would be…

They were putting a woman on a stretcher. She was shrieking like he’d never heard a human shriek before. 

He saw the bone of her arm poking through her skin.

He stumbled back.

Gagged.

Tripped over a twisted rail and threw up all over his own shoes.

His knees went out.

The taste of vomit and blood, the smell of vomit and blood, the sound of burning and sirens and screaming and crying.

There was too much death and not enough help.

No one would come for them.

They were insignificant in the face of the human world.

No one cared if Yeonjun was bleeding out when a hundred people were just as hurt right here.

He forced himself to his feet.

Started to stumble away.

“Hey, stop!”

Someone had noticed him.

Help?

He glanced back.

Not help.

Police.

Guns.

Killing.

“Kid, wait up!”

No.

He ran.

Blind panic.

He ran past Soobin and Taehyun.

Soobin and Taehyun, brave enough to stay with Yeonjun as he died.

Beomgyu was not that brave.

The darkness ahead waited for him.

##

At least he had his eyes.

He was bruised and his ribs may have been broken but he wasn’t badly hurt and he could see.

Could see that his attempt to stop Yeonjun’s bleeding was doing very little.

The wound was just too big.

How had it happened? 

Kai’s wound made sense. Got his head knocked real bad. Probably hadn’t broken his neck, with how steady his pulse was, but you couldn’t be too careful.

Yeonjun’s injury…

It looked like something had tried to claw him open.

A school sweater held against the wound couldn’t fix that.

Taehyun wasn’t sure if anything could fix that. He didn’t know how deep it was, but from the blood, it wasn’t just a scratch. What if his organs were hurt? What if they did get him to the hospital, for it to all be for nothing?

Worse than that, what if Yeonjun died right here?

Blood slid over Taehyun’s fingers. The sweater soaked through. Soobin was crying, holding Yeonjun like he’d never let go.

Footsteps tore towards them, and Taehyun looked up.

Beomgyu ran straight past, his eyes staring at nothing.

But he was followed.

Not an EMT.

A police officer.

Taehyun shuddered and pulled back. He started to cover his eye, before remembering his eye was human.

(For now)

The police officer didn’t draw his gun.

(For now)

“God, how’d you get all the way over here?” he said. “The trains crashed over there!”

“I guess we were thrown?” Taehyun said. It was a lame excuse, and he knew it. But it was all he had.

The police officer swore as he came around and saw Yeonjun. He glanced at Kai.

“We’ve got some kids back here,” he said into his radio, “Yes. I know, it’s weird. Yes, they were obviously in the crash. Guess they were thrown from the train. Two of them look real bad. I’ll doing what I can, but we need an ambulance, STAT.”

He looked at Taehyun. “Can you help me?”

“Yes,” Taehyun said. “Can we save them?”

The police officer didn’t answer that question.

##

It took great effort for the New Death to keep his voice calm.

“What was that?”

“It was not caused by me, I can assure you,” the Doctor said. He did not know her name. Names were arbitrary. Titles were everything.

“If I had known, I may have been ready,” he growled, “But no one told me! Not one of you!”

The others had arrived, their souls blurry in the place they sat. Men, both of them. One was good with knives. The other loved pain.

“We believe it was…” the Knife Man began.

“What?” the New Death snapped, “What do you believe?”

“We think it was one of the… one of the Monsters,” the Cruel Man said.

“One of my own did this, you say?” Abraxus hissed. “And whose fault is it that there even are Midworlders loose in this land?”

The three humans did not speak for a second.

He knew why.

“I know you blame the Monster-Children,” he said, “And it is true, that in trespassing through the Gateways, they have released terrors they don’t understand. But they are children and you are adults and it was your job to stop them a long time ago!”

Anger flooded their space, and the humans cowered.

“In fact, it is your job to kill the Chosen, is it not? It shouldn’t fall to me, or to the Midworlders! You’ve done it before, why didn’t you find this one? Why do you leave everything to me?”

A storm erupted around them. Abraxus felt the power of Death. Their little human lives, so fragile. So easy to snuff out. To throw from order into chaos.

“But didn’t you get him?” the Doctor’s voice whimpered.

Death calmed the storm.

“What?”

“I heard you,” she said, “When the monst..., uh, Midworlder caused the wreck, I heard you running, chasing, searching for him…”

“I did catch him,” Death said. He could still feel the blood.

Sweet relief poured over the humans.

“Is he dead?” the Doctor asked, as she was the wisest one.

“I can only hope the wound was mortal, but there it is not guaranteed. Had one of you let me know this was coming, as if your job, then his life would certainly have bled into the earth. But you didn’t.”

They cringed.

“There will be punishment,” he said.

“We’ll find them, we know we will,” the Doctor said, “But maybe if you could tell us anything about them…”

“I know naught of the names of mortals!” he shouted, “I know not of their appearance or shape! I simply know Death, and that I am!”

The humans cowered.

They always cowered before him.

He loved it when they cowered before him.

If he ever found the Midworlder-children who had the form of humans, he would make them cower. He would make them suffer. He would make them pay for hiding the Chosen from him.

Except the one.

The odd-eyes.

So strange, to find another like him.

Young, and innocent, and hopeful.

Just beginning to taste what all the Worlds held against him, simply for his birth.

That one might be won over.

“I will deal with the monsters,” Death said.

“As only you can,” said the doctor.

“They are hungry, and I cannot blame them for their actions. You, however, are tasked with stopping them from doing something like this without warning again.”

“Yes, my king,” said the Doctor.

“Be gone,” said Death, and they were gone.

Abraxus continued alone.

Rather frustrating, his deal had become.

It had seemed such a little price to pay.

Not to recognize the Chosen.

To have to use servants to find him.

But even they would not remember the name or face of the boy who should be Death. Anyone who caught him had to kill him right off, or they would start over.

It had plagued him for years.

Could he find a loophole?

He was a god.

Times were getting desperate.

Tomorrow, he would think more of that.

Now, the souls of those killed in the crash were falling. He wanted to enjoy their decent into the hell he had made of the afterlife.  
And maybe, as hours drew on and blood kept flowing, the soul of the Chosen boy might join the throngs. 

The claw of Death cut deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. Next week, we're going back to BTS in Part Five: Spring Day. Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving :)


	31. Spring Day: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Back to BTS!
> 
> If it's been a while, you might want to refresh on what's happened in in the final chapter of Part 3. But to sum it up: everything is sad.

Spring Day

_The silence isn’t so bad  
Till I look at my hands and feel sad  
Cause the spaces between my fingers  
Are right where yours fit  
Perfectly_

-Vanilla Twilight, Owl City

Chapter One

Taehyung hadn’t expected things to be like this.

None of them had.

It was supposed to be: Go pick up Jungkook. Hope Hoseok didn’t kill them all with his reckless driving. Have a party at the apartment, fall asleep sometime around 3 am, and sleep as long as they could in the morning.

Instead, it was this: Jimin curled up against Taehyung in the back seat of the truck, crying. Hoseok, fighting back the emotions himself as he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

And Jungkook.

Jungkook, his Converse kicked up on the dash, scrolling through Twitter on his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Jimin stopped crying for a minute, but Tae knew it wouldn’t be long before he started again.

“Whoa, did you guys hear about this scandal? It says…” Jungkook went on to read what sounded like a gossip tabloid on some CEO.

No one responded, and Jungkook continued scrolling as if he nothing was wrong.

Jungkook was scaring Taehyung, a little. Sure, he knew the kid didn’t show his emotions openly. But…

Taehyung had only met Mikyeong three times. She seemed like a cool girl. It had been ridiculously obvious that Jungkook was head over heels for her, and she for him.

Now, she was dead. Just died this afternoon. Jungkook had only known for an hour when they showed up to get him. Dr. Lee had pulled the three of them aside, told them what had happened, and told them—

“I tried to talk to Jungkook about it, but he wouldn’t respond to a thing I said.”

It got worse after that.

Jimin had immediately hugged Jungkook, letting the tears come, but Jungkook hadn’t hugged him back. He’d shoved Jimin away, saying, “What’s wrong with you?”

“This really sucks,” Hoseok had said, his voice on the edge of breaking.

“What? I’m finally getting out of this prison. I think this is the best day of my life.”

They’d gathered his things in silence. Well, silence with the exception of Jimin’s crying, and Hoseok’s unsteady breathing.

They pulled into a parking spot just a block away from the apartment. Hoseok took Jungkook’s bag. Jungkook followed him up the stairs, face still glued to his phone.

“Come on, Jimin,” Taehyung said, “We’re home.”

Jimin nodded against Taehyung’s shoulder, and slowly sat up. His face was red and blotchy, his eyes still full of tears.

“Is he going… going to be… okay… do you think?”

“We’ll all be okay,” Taehyung said, “It’s just gonna take some time. Come on.”

Jimin leaned on him all the way up the stairs. When they reached the apartment, Jungkook was on the couch. No longer looking on his phone. Just staring ahead, a line between his eyebrows.

Jimin left Taehyung’s side and went to sit next to Jungkook but—

“Don’t,” Jungkook almost shouted, tensing.

Jimin jumped back. “What?”

“My back hurts,” he said, “I don’t want anyone next to me. You’ll just make it hurt worse if you touch me. Why are there so many damn stairs? And why are you still crying? Come on. How old are you?”

Taehyung kind of wanted to slap Jungkook.

Jimin swallowed, pushing back the tears for a moment. He left Jungkook and went to the bedroom.

“Where’s Hoseok?” Taehyung asked, after a minute.

Jungkook shrugged.

“Come on, man,” Taehyung said, “You have to”—

“Just shut up and leave me alone,” Jungkook said.

“You think Mikyeong would want you to”—

“Who’s Mikyeong?”

Taehyung shook his head, and came around to face Jungkook.

“Don’t touch me,” Jungkook said again, “My back hurts.”

“Mikyeong,” Taehyung said in response. “Cho Mikyeong. About five-foot-five, hair in pigtails, evil gleam in her eyes most of the time? Tricked me into thinking she was related to the President? Loved eating MnMs?”

Jungkook just stared.

“Not talking about her isn’t going to stop it hurting.”

“But I don’t know who Mikyeong is,” Jungkook said.

“You really liked her,” Taehyung said.

“I haven’t liked a girl since ninth grade.”

Taehyung didn’t know what to say to that.

He wondered if Jungkook should have stayed in the hospital.

Obviously something was wrong.

“Could you bring me a pillow and blanket?” Jungkook asked.

Taehyung blinked. “What?”

“I asked Hoseok, but he went to the bathroom and hasn’t come out. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

Taehyung wanted to say, “Get your own blanket, punk.”

But he didn’t.

He found a blanket and a pillow and gave them to Jungkook.

He thought about just taking the keys and driving back to Seokjin’s, hell with the law.

He didn’t.

Hoseok was still in the bathroom. Probably crying and not wanting anyone to see him. He could hear Jimin’s quiet sobs from the bedroom.

Jungkook laid down and stared at his phone some more. As Taehyung turned off the light, the glow from the screen illuminated Jungkook’s face.

##

Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He tried to distract himself with Twitter, but…

He had to be imagining it.

No.

The _sound_ , as Hoseok had pulled out into traffic. The engine revving. 

He remembered it, the sound he’d heard just a moment before—

Crunching of bones and choking on blood and a strange cold nothingness and the _Voice_ …

After that noise.

The sound of an engine.

Of _that_ engine.

Well, of course, not that exact engine. But there were lots of trucks of the same make and model as Seokjin’s. One of them had hit him.

He thought about calling the police.

Letting them know.

He stopped.

It didn’t matter.

They probably weren’t looking into his case anymore.

No one cared who hit him.

He’d survived. He could walk. That was all that mattered.

No one cared.

##

Taehyung woke up just in time to catch himself before his face hit the floor.

He took a deep breath and slowly sat up.

Generally, he was the one to push people out of bed in the middle of the night. It was why no one ever wanted to sleep with him. He had no control over himself while he slept, and had been described as “a hurricane in human form” (by his sister) and “a flailing octopus” (by Namjoon) on numerous occasions.

Jimin had been too sad to sleep alone, however.

Taehyung glanced at the bed.

Not only had Jimin successfully stayed asleep while kicking Taehyung off the bed, he was also fully cocooned in the blanket. There were still tearstains on his cheeks, but he looked peaceful and comfortable.

Taehyung shivered and sighed. Sleeping on the floor was probably his best option. It’s what he’d expected to do, anyways. He’d expected they all would, actually, falling asleep while crowding around a movie on Jungkook’s phone or something.

A cry came from the living room.

Followed by something more like a scream.

“Tae, what’s that…?” Jimin muttered sleepily.

“Nothing,” Taehyung said, “I’ll deal with it. Go back to sleep.”

Hoseok made no sound from the top bunk.

Taehyung closed the bedroom door as he tiptoed into the living room.

The cries were becoming words. “No… no… she’s here… I have to find her…”

“Jungkook,” Tae said, softly. He flipped on the light switch and squinted at the sudden light.

Jungkook didn’t respond as Taehyung approached the couch. His eyes were open, but it was obvious he wasn’t seeing anything. His head jerked from side to side on the pillow.

“She’s got to be here, okay? She promised. She promised she wouldn’t forget me.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung whispered. He knelt next to the couch and shook Jungkook’s shoulder.

“You’re lying. You’re lying. Are you hurting her? Give her back, please, I’ll…”

“Wake up!” Taehyun said, and shook Jungkook harder.

A sort of strangled cry came from Jungkook’s throat, and he sat up so fast Taehyung jerked back to avoid cracking heads with him.

“Where am I?” Jungkook asked, his voice quiet and shaky.

“Hoseok’s place” Taehyung said, “You’re okay. You were having a nightmare.”

Jungkook nodded. “Nightmare.”

“You want to talk about it?” Taehyung asked. He didn’t really want to talk about it. Having Jungkook get all emotional in front of him was not what he wanted to be doing in the middle of the night. But Seokjin always dealt with Taehyung, whenever the panic came upon him. And if this snapped Jungkook out of the mood he’d been in earlier…

“I don’t… remember…” Jungkook said.

“You were saying something about a girl,” Taehyung prompted.

“Why would I dream about a girl?”

“I don’t know, why would you?”

“I wouldn’t,” Jungkook said. “Could you hand me my phone?”

It was plugged in to a wall socket too far away to reach from the couch. Taehyung grabbed it and glanced at the screen.

1:47 in the morning.

The phone was at 63% battery.

So Jungkook couldn’t have been sleeping long, before the nightmare woke him.

Jungkook took the phone. Opened Facebook this time. Stared at the screen as he scrolled down his feed.

“You can’t do this,” Taehyung said.

“Do what,” Jungkook muttered, not looking at him.

##

“Mrs. Cho’s here,” Hoseok called.

“Who?” Jungkook shouted from inside the bathroom.

“Mikyeong’s mom.”

“You still aren’t making any sense.”

“She brought you the piano, you should at least come and say thank you.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Jungkook said, and followed it with a muttered, “It’s a keyboard, not a piano.”

Hoseok had about had enough of this. He briefly considered kicking the door down and dragging Jungkook out, but reconsidered. He doubted he could kick the door down. He’d probably just hurt himself. And even if he could, he’d have to pay to fix it, and he didn’t have money for that.

He returned to the entryway. Mrs. Cho stood there, the keyboard leaning against the doorframe. “Jungkook’s…” Hoseok began, but didn’t know how to finish.

Mrs. Cho just nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You aren’t the one who should be sorry!” Hoseok said, “He’ll… well… he’ll come around sometime, I hope. And I know he’ll appreciate having the piano. Thank you so much for giving it to him.”

“Mikyeong didn’t have a musical bone in her body,” Mrs. Cho said, “Really shocked me when she asked for a piano.”

“Yeah, well, I think they had fun with it. At least, Jimin says they did. I wasn’t over there as much as I wish I could have been. Do you want to come in?” he asked, “I’ve been rude, just making you stand here. I have some instant coffee, if you want a cup?”

“Thank you, but I need to go. I wanted to give you this, though.” She handed him an envelope. “The funeral is on Saturday. I understand if you can’t make it, but you boys are all invited.”

Hoseok nodded. “We’ll try and be there.”

Mrs. Cho left.

Hoseok set up the piano. Plugged it in. Turned it on. Hit a few keys.

Jungkook was there in an instant. Pushed Hoseok out of the way and began playing. Haltingly, at first, but more and more smoothly with ever passing minute. Hoseok noticed the dark circles under his eyes were even deeper than they had been. 

Hoseok hoped this would unlock something in him. Let him acknowledge that he’d known Mikyeong, that she was dead, and that it was okay to be sad about it.

Hoseok was halfway through making fried rice when the music stopped.

He ran out of the kitchen, heart beating fast, thinking maybe Jungkook was—

But no.

He was simply moving the couch over, so he could sit and play some more. His back was probably hurting him.

Hoseok grabbed the envelope from where he’d laid it. The funeral was in four days. Jungkook should really be there. But how could he, if he was so lost in his head that he was pretending he hadn’t even known her?

##

“Sweetie, is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing at all!” Jimin said, forcing his smile a little brighter. “Just bringing some more breadsticks. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

He was serving one of his favorite couples. They came in at least once a week. The husband was American and seemed pleasant, but his Korean wasn’t fluent, so Jimin generally conversed only with the wife.

“We’re good, sweetie. But you need to take care of yourself, okay? Go to sleep right when you get home tonight.”

He met her eyes.

She was so sincere.

So concerned.

And she knew, she knew the smile he’d plastered on his face was a fricking lie.

He wanted to say something, but he was all choked up. He bowed to her and quickly walked away.

Thankfully, it was a slow evening. The couple hadn’t finished their meal and wouldn’t be wanting their bill yet. He knew their routine.

He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Leaned on the edge of the sink.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Tears slid out of his eyes and dripped onto the porcelain. God. He had to get himself together. They needed this money. If he cried in front of a customer, his boss would fire him on the spot. 

Two minutes. Three. That was all he could allow himself. He splashed water on his face and stared in the mirror. He could fight through the rest of his shift. Just two more hours.

Then he’d go home and Jungkook would have nightmares every hour or so and Jimin would have to go wake him up so he’d stop screaming and then try to go back to sleep and wake up in another hour the same way. Hoseok never woke up. Which was good. At least one of them should sleep. But Hoseok still looked exhausted in the morning, when he tried to make breakfast for all three of them and Jimin tried to sneak in another thirty minutes of sleep before Jungkook started playing that blasted piano…

There.

If he was angry, he might not cry. Focus on how annoying it was that Jungkook played the piano whenever he wasn’t waking up from nightmares, he could keep the fake smile plastered on his face. Get through another handful of customers. Go home and not sleep and try to do it all over again.

##

Yoongi’s lunch break fell at 9 pm. Jandi would leave any minute now, but he had a full half hour before he was expected to start playing. He finished wiping down one last table and headed back towards the kitchen.

He spotted someone hunched at the table in the back corner. He was wearing a black hoodie and staring at his phone. There was something familiar about the slouch in his shoulders.

Yoongi quickly put away the cleaning supplies and snagged the burger that the cooks always had ready for him at this time. He never changed his order. 

Then he went to the corner table.

“You’re underage,” he said, flatly.

“I dare you to try and throw me out,” Taehyung said, looking up and grinning like only he could.

“I told you not to try and find me.”

“I told you I’m bad at following rules.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jungkook needs you.”

Yoongi’s chest got tight. “I thought he was getting out of the hospital? That he’s fine?”

Taehyung let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, sure, he’s walking all right. But he’s a mess.”

Yoongi stared at Tae. “I don’t get it.”

“Long story short: he met this girl in the hospital and she died the day he got out. Guess he never told her goodbye or something like that. Now, he’s not even acknowledging that she even existed.”

“But he’s safe?”

Taehyung sighed. “Sure. He’s safe. But things are falling apart.”

“How is that my problem?”

“The kid’s not sleeping. Anytime his body falls asleep from pure exhaustion, he gets screaming nightmares less than an hour later. Always wakes Jimin up, cause he doesn’t stop screaming till someone comes and wakes him up, and then the process starts all over again.”

“What’s Hoseok doing?”

“Pretty sure he’s knocking himself out with sleeping pills. Either that, or he’s really good at ignoring things. All I know for sure is Jimin calls me crying almost every night when he gets home from work.”

“That sucks,” Yoongi said.

“You know you could help him,” Taehyung said, “The two of you were always closest. Like me and Namjoon. Jimin and Hoseok. If you just saw Jungkook, I know you could get through to him.”

Yoongi took a few more bites of his burger.

“The girl’s funeral is tomorrow,” Taehyung said, “I think he’ll regret it if he doesn’t go, but as of now, he’s still pretending he’s never heard her name.”

“I can’t,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung scoffed. “Don’t go telling me it was ‘all your fault he got hurt’ and ‘if I see him I’ll only hurt him more.’”

“You don’t understand, I’ll”—

“I know you made a deal!” Taehyung said, too loudly. He lowered his tone. “I know you made a deal. I did, too. So did Seokjin. And, I really think, so did Jungkook.”

Yoongi shivered. “No,” he said.

“Yes,” Taehyung said. “I know you think everything you touch will burn, but it won’t. What happened to Jungkook was either an accident or his own fault.”

“No, it has to be”—

“What about school?” Tae said, “What about those two years where we were happy? Friends? Jungkook’s life might not have been perfect, but you didn’t hurt him one bit. And you guys were really close. You were always there for him, whenever he was hurting and didn’t want anyone to see. You saw, and he let you.”

Yoongi continued with his dinner.

“Yoongi. Please. I don’t know what’s going to happen if things go on like this. I’ve asked Seokjin to help, if maybe we could have Jungkook stay at his place for a while, but he says no. And Namjoon’s been over a few times, but Jungkook’s just the same with him, and Namjoon lives too far away for Jungkook to move in with him, because Jungkook has classes starting next week to help him get ready for senior year…”

“Where’s Namjoon living at?” Yoongi said.

“Oh, he’s got an apartment now. And a diploma. And a scholarship to Yonsei. It’s pretty wild.”

“Think he made a deal, too?”

“If he did, it’s a hell of a lot better than whatever I got,” Taehyung said, “Which, honestly, I’m not too clear on. Got any insight for me on the whole deal thing? Cause Seokjin has not been helpful.”

Yoongi just stared at him.

“Nevermind, not the subject at hand,” Taehyung continued. “Jungkook. He needs you, man. If you can’t snap him out of this, no one can.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He finished his burger and headed for the back entrance.

Taehyung followed him.

“Jimin and Hoseok went to the dance studio tonight. Jungkook’s alone, playing piano, probably. You can talk to him.”

Yoongi lit a cigarette.

“Or, you could not talk to him,” Taehyung said, “You could just play piano with him, or something. Watch something on his phone. Go up on the roof. He used to do that a lot, right? Anything, really, would be better than what’s happening now.”

“I’m working,” Yoongi said.

“I already covered that,” Taehyung said.

“You can’t cover for me, you’re seventeen,” Yoongi said.

“Hell no, not me,” Taehyung said, “But you have more friends.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Yoongi said.

“Listen,” Taehyung said.

What was there to listen to? 

But—

Yes—

“No,” Yoongi said, “I won’t let her.”

Because Jandi was still playing.

“Guess you’ll have to tell her to leave then,” Taehyun said, grinning, “Because she promised me she’d be playing for the rest of your shift. Not cause she likes you. But because she thinks Jungkook’s pretty awesome and it’s awfully sad that Mikyeong died.”

Yoongi leaned back against the brick wall of the bar and closed his eyes.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“No.”

“Eh, we’ll see,” Taehyung said. Yoongi felt Taehyung punch his shoulder lightly, and then heard him jogging away down the alley.

He opened his eyes.

Watched the smoke dissolve in front of him.

How could he go see Jungkook?

If it hadn’t been his fault (and he wasn’t convinced of that), then he’d been absolutely terrible in not going to see Jungkook all these months.

Jungkook probably wouldn’t want to see him.

The building would probably catch fire.

He wouldn’t go.

Jandi could take his shift if she wanted.

He’d go home and…

And…

And just fall asleep, like he always did.

##

Jungkook played the piano.

He didn’t know what song it was. 

Just that he couldn’t stop playing it.

It was some sort of pop song. The melody was simple. The key was a little odd, but nothing too difficult, except one chord. It was awkward to make his ring finger stretch for the flat it was supposed to hit.

God, his back hurt.

He should lay down.

But if he laid down, he wouldn’t be able to play, and if he couldn’t play…

His phone was charging. He’d seen everything on Twitter. The thought of reading the same clickbait headlines over and over again made him feel sick.

He had to play.

A knock sounded on the door.

Why?

Jimin and Hoseok knew the code. And besides, they’d said they wouldn’t be back until well after midnight. Maybe longer. He knew he kept waking up Jimin. Maybe Jimin was taking a nap while Hoseok danced.

Jungkook would not sleep.

Not until his body forced him to.

Sleeping meant returning to the fantasy world.

He didn’t want fantasy.

He wanted reality.

Reality, where angels weren’t real and the only thing keeping him from running, running, running until his legs gave out and he couldn’t go anywhere else was this piano.

This song.

Another knock.

Then another.

Consistent pounding, completely off-beat with the song he was playing.

He sighed.

A delivery?

An axe murderer?

Didn’t matter.

He’d do what needed to be done. Take the package. Get murdered. Whatever. And then he’d play piano again.

He opened the door.

##

Yoongi’s heart caught in his throat.

It took a moment for him to realize it was really Jungkook. The boy standing in front of him looked far too old from what he remembered. True, it had been nearly three months. He’d never gone that long before without seeing Jungkook. Even when the darkness had been on him, and the music hard to see, it seemed that only a few weeks would pass before they’d see each other in some way.

Jungkook was a little taller. A little thinner. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t gone, entirely, but he didn’t have the look like he was ready to get hit. More like he was ready to fight. His eyes… his eyes were strange. Yoongi had never noticed before, the childish light that Jungkook’s eyes used to glow with, the hope that had shone from them.

Now, his eyes just looked… empty.

But it was really him.

Standing. Breathing.

Not broken and bleeding on the pavement.

“Yoongi?” Jungkook said. His voice was quiet. Dull. “What are you doing here?”

“That chord progression was terrible,” Yoongi said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Jungkook let him in.

The apartment wasn’t half bad. It was a bit warm, but that was to be expected after how sunny it had been earlier. Yoongi took his flannel off and tossed it onto a folding chair that seemed to be a place for jackets to collect. Overall, it was clean and nice, if sparsely decorated.

The piano set-up horrified him. It was impossible to sit on a couch like that and expect to play with the right posture. And a keyboard? Seriously?

He fought against his revulsion and sat down. God. It was worse than he thought. The keys weren’t even weighted, the sound was too electric, and, damn, there wasn’t even a pedal.

Who had thought this was any sort of excuse for a piano?

He played through the progression. “Show me how you’ve been doing it.”

Jungkook played it on a higher octave.

“Here. Try this,” Yoongi said, focusing on the one transition.

Jungkook tried. Tried again. Kept trying. On attempt twenty-three, he got it, and a smile lit up his face.

Just for a moment.

And it was gone.

“Play the song for me,” Yoongi said. He scooted over, so Jungkook could take a proper seat in the middle of the keyboard. Jungkook rested his hands on the keys, took a deep breath, and began.

Yoongi wasn’t sure what the song was called, but he’d heard it before. In a convenience store or something. Idol music, definitely.

“What’s the song called?” he asked, “If you listen to it on your phone, you might better understand the nuances of the melody.”

“I don’t know what it’s called,” Jungkook said, mechanically.

Yoongi nodded, and let him play on.

When he finished, he paused for a moment, and played it again.

Yoongi had tried to expand his taste into pop music. He really had. But by the fifth time Jungkook finished the song, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I think you’ve got it,” Yoongi said, “What else are you working on?”

Jungkook kept playing, and shrugged.

Yoongi wasn’t sure what to do.

After Jungkook finished this time, though, he sat back. Folded his hands together in his lap.

“Can I show you something?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook nodded. “My back hurts,” he said. “I think I’ll lie down for a bit.

Yoongi nodded. He took the center seat at the piano, and Jungkook slowly laid down, his head on the far arm of the couch, his legs hanging off it.

Yoongi played for a few minutes before breaking the silence with words.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

“Yup,” Jungkook agreed.

“How’s it feel, living with Hoseok and Jimin?”

“It’s all right.”

Slowly, carefully, Yoongi transitioned from the tune he’d started with into the one he’d written for Jungkook.

“Is it better than being in the hospital?”

“Kind of. It’s boring, though. Hoseok works all the time, and when Jimin’s not working, he’s really emotional.”

“You had lots of friends in the hospital, right?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said.

“Jandi told me she saw you there,” Yoongi said, hoping it sounded casual.

“Jandi? So you’re talking to her again?”

Yoongi nodded. He’d clear up the lie later.

“We saw her playing her guitar. She’s really good. And she’s nice. She bought us lunch.”

“Us? You and Jimin?”

“No, me and Mikyeong.”

“Who’s Mikyeong?”

Jungkook sat up. “She’s this girl I met there,” he said.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s great,” Jungkook said, a smile playing on his lips. “Without her and Jimin, I’m not sure if I could have made it. The recovery really hurt. But she was like crazy smart, and knew everything there was to know about medical things.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and she was only seventeen! And she talked all the time, and made up the most crazy stories. She told this one where I was a super famous music artist, and in the latest chapter, I got engaged to IU. And in the story I was telling her, we were adventuring through Paris. I even threw some vampires in, for excitement.”

“She sounds really great,” Yoongi said.

“She’s amazing,” Jungkook said, “Tomorrow, maybe, we can go to the hospital and you can”—

He cut off.

Yoongi forced himself to keep playing the piano normally.

Jungkook stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dull, “You don’t have to stay here. I’m sure it’s annoying you. I mean, I suck at piano. It took me so long to get that right.”

Yoongi glanced over at Jungkook. The kid had grabbed Yoongi’s flannel and was bringing it over.

“Here’s your jacket, don’t want to forget that,” Jungkook said, “I know you probably don’t want to be here, I’m really obnoxious, even Jimin’s sick of me now, here, you can go, I’ll be okay alone, I’ll”—

Yoongi hit a crescendo in one of the neverending verses of Jungkook's song.

Jungkook froze. He looked like a deer in the headlights, staring off into some middle distance.

“I never told her,” he said, slowly shaking his head, “I never told her I loved her. I was so scared. I ignored her and didn’t go tell her how I felt and…”

Yoongi kept playing.

“She told me how scared she was of dying alone, and she asked me to come see her and I was so scared of telling her I loved her that I didn’t go. And, and…” His voice cracked.

Yoongi stopped playing.

Jungkook was just standing there, between the door and the couch, his hands gripping Yoongi’s flannel so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

“I let her die alone,” Jungkook said, voice hollow.

Yoongi didn’t know what to say to that.

“Why didn’t I go see her? She asked me to. I always went when she asked. And she came when I did. Why didn’t I go, Yoongi? Why didn’t I tell her before?”

“Come over here,” Yoongi said, “I want to hear you play that song again.”

“But it’s a pop song, and you… you don’t like pop songs…”

“It’s her favorite song, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sat next to Yoongi and sniffled.

“You… you can go… if you want…” Jungkook said. “I’m… I’m sure this is… annoying and…”

“Shut up and play,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook shook his head. “I don’t think I can. It hurts too much to remember.”

“Can you listen?”

Jungkook nodded, hunching his shoulders up and pressing the flannel against his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say happy late birthday to Jin and happy birthday to Soobin, since it's technically still the 5th where I am.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you thought in the comments :) 
> 
> I'll be back with Spring Day: Chapter 2 next Saturday, December 12.


	32. Spring Day: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A _lot_ happens in this chapter...
> 
> Note: I'm not sure if ambulances are as cripplingly expensive in Korea as they are in America... but for the sake of plot, we're going to pretend they are :P

Spring, Year 20

-just over two years ago—

It hadn’t been instant, the friendship between Yoongi and Jungkook. Nothing was instant with Yoongi. Even his love for music had grown slowly through his childhood, before the passion caught him in a death grip.

But now, a year and a half since they’d met, there was nothing Yoongi wouldn’t do to keep the youngest of his friends safe.

At least, nothing within his power. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have much of that. Jungkook’s family hurt him, he was almost positive. He could never prove it and Jungkook never admitted it, but he saw the signs.

Music calmed Jungkook. Music was life for Yoongi, so simply playing while the middle schooler rested nearby was sometimes enough to melt the anxiety off of Jungkook’s face. When everyone else showed up, Jungkook would be ready to go off with all of them and find the cheapest possible fast food dinner, or race Taehyung through the garbage-heap obstacle course they had set up in the darker recesses of the room, or learn some dance moves from Hoseok.

The smile would melt when it was time to go home, but until then, he was happy.

And that day—

They hadn’t known it would be the last.

He’d been playing the piano. Working a little more into Jungkook’s song. He’d considered asking if Jungkook wanted to play something today, but Jungkook had immediately laid down on the desks and closed his eyes.

In a quiet beat, Yoongi noticed that Jungkook’s breath sounded a little tight. He’d ask him about it, later.

Yoongi lost track of time. The music grabbed him and pulled him deep. He came up with thirty full seconds of new melody that blended perfectly with the chorus before.

He hadn’t even heard someone coming.

Not until they were already here.

The desks scraped slightly as a voice yelled—

“So this is what’s going on?”

The piano bench fell back as Yoongi turned and stood.

“What the hell have you done to this room?”

The music still blurred Yoongi’s mind.

“Punk kids, think you own the world, do you?”

Then Jungkook screamed.

Clarity rushed back.

A teacher slammed Jungkook against the wall.

Only one thought was in Yoongi’s head:

The teacher was going to pay for that.

Yoongi rushed towards the man, cursing. 

The man dropped Jungkook.

Yoongi shoved him.

Pulled his fist back and slammed it into the man’s face.

Pain shot through Yoongi’s knuckles. He wondered for a moment if he’d broken something.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” the teacher said, grabbing one of the desks and struggling to his feet. “You’d better apologize.”

“You just threw a freshman against the wall,” Yoongi growled, “You wanna go, old man? I’m not scared of you.”

It took everything he had to not throw himself at the teacher. Smash his fist into his face over, and over, and over, until he regretted ever hurting a kid.

“I don’t need to hurt you,” the teacher said, every syllable precise, “Your life is already over.”

He spat at Yoongi and limped up the stairs.

Oh god.

_Oh god._

He’d just hit a teacher, and he didn’t regret it.

Things were going to fall apart.

And Jungkook…

He rushed and knelt in front of his friend. The kid was crumpled against the wall, face white as a sheet, gasping for breath.

“Where’d he hurt you?”

“He didn’t,” Jungkook gasped, “He didn’t hurt me.”

“You don’t scream like that for nothing,” Yoongi said.

“I was hurt from… from earlier,” Jungkook said. “Wasn’t him. God. Yoongi. You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Didn’t matter didn’t matter. Just focus on now. If Jungkook was hurt, he needed to help him before…

“Frick that. Can you breathe okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, even though every breath was short and sharp.

“It doesn’t sound like you can breathe okay.”

“I can breathe just fine, damn it!” Jungkook shouted. “What did you go and do that for? What if puts you in jail? I was fine, you didn’t have to do that, Yoongi, god…”

There was a very real chance that could happen. Yoongi had lost the last bit of power he had. Now, Jungkook would be even more alone. The others would still be here, sure, but if Yoongi was gone, no one would know. No one would protect him. 

“Jungkook. Look at me.” He grabbed Jungkook’s shoulders, hoping the connection would calm both of them. Jungkook’s eyes met Yoongi’s, and Yoongi desperately tried to hide the panic that was slowly overwhelming him.

“I know you get hurt almost every day and I can’t do a fricking thing to stop it,” he said, “And I know you don’t want me to step in, and I don’t. I don’t. And I hate it. I hate that I couldn’t do anything, even if you’d let me.”

The kid was shaking.

“But don’t you think, for one second,” Yoongi continued, “That anyone’s ever going to hurt you on my watch. No one. I don’t regret anything. No matter what happens. Okay? You understand me? Whatever happens to me, keep…” The shield broke, and Yoongi’s voice cracked. Damn.

Jungkook looked like he’d just seen someone get killed in front of him.

“Keep going,” Yoongi said, “Just like your song. Okay? You hear me?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Good.” Yoongi let up his grip on Jungkook, and his posture sank a little. He realized he was shaking, too, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Okay. Now”—

Jungkook’s arms flung around Yoongi’s shoulders, his face pressed into his shirt. 

“Whoa,” Yoongi said, “Umm. I.”

“The song can’t keep going without you playing it,” Jungkook said against his shoulder.

God.

Everything was falling apart.

Yoongi swore softly, and carefully wrapped his arms around Jungkook. He wondered if the kid had broken ribs. If anyone would ever know. If his stepfather would maybe kill him one day.

And there was nothing, nothing he could do to stop it.

“Yeah, kid. I guess you’re right,” Yoongi said.

##

\--Present Day--

Hoseok limped over to the side of the studio. His muscles burned from the intensive routine they’d spent the last hour on.

Jimin had nestled himself behind the vintage standing mirror and the corner, one of Jae’s dance sweaters balled up for a pillow. Hoseok slowly lowered himself to the ground next to him and stretched.

“Think he’d sleep there until morning?” Jae asked, joining him.

“Probably.”

“You’re quiet today,” she said.

“And you’ve asked an obnoxious amount of questions.”

Hoseok rolled his shoulders.

“Stiff?” Jae asked.

“Again, with the questions,” Hoseok said. He leaned forward over one leg, feeling the stretch in both his left thigh and lower back.

When he sat back up, Jae’s fingers touched the back of his neck. Brushed through the sweaty ends of his hair.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Massage,” she said, “You’ll hurt yourself, if your muscles are too tight.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulder, and he knew she was right. He glanced up, checking the mirror. All he could see of her reflection behind him was her left foot, now devoid of its pointe shoe. Her toes were bloody.

They didn’t say anything.

She worked her magic on his shoulders, and he tried to forget. To forget the bills and the debt and Jungkook’s blank gaze and even Jimin curled up just in front of him. Why Jimin was sleeping, instead of dancing.

(But Hoseok had been against it from the start. If Jungkook had never known Mikyeong, he wouldn’t be hurting. It was only because Jimin let him).

Jae’s fingers brushed along his collarbone, and he could feel her cheek rest agains the back of his neck.

Was this real?

The tension, the longing, the gazes they shared during their duets?

He caught her hand in his.

She didn’t pull back.

Her nails had chipped black polish on them.

He could feel her breath on his skin.

He gently pulled her hand to his face.

Kissed her palm.

“Hoseok,” she whispered, “I need to tell”—

Jimin sat straight up.

Jae pulled back from Hoseok and he scrambled forward, heart pounding.

“You okay, Jimin?” he said, hoping the shaking in his voice wasn’t apparent. He wasn’t even really sure what it was coming from. Jae had just been massaging his shoulders. There was nothing—

No.

There was _something._

“Where am I?” Jimin asked, blinking.

“Dance studio,” Hoseok said, “You fell asleep.”

“Did I ever get the routine down?” he asked.

“No,” Jae said, and she sounded strangely out of breath, “But it’s okay. It’s a hard one.”

Disappointment fell over Jimin’s face. “When can we come back?” he asked.

“Tomorrow night,” Hoseok said.

“I won’t be here,” Jae said, “I won’t be back until Tuesday.”

“Why?” Jimin asked, and yawned.

“Busy,” she said.

Jimin yawned again.

“You want to go home? We could stay here all night, if you wanted to go back to sleep,” Hoseok said.

Jimin looked excited about the idea for a moment. But then—

“No. If Jungkook has nightmares, someone has to wake him up.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.”

“You don’t, though,” Jimin said, “So it does.” He slowly stood up.

Hoseok turned around. Jae met his eye for just a moment before looking away. Like she’d been staring at him and almost didn’t want him to know.

He wished she could come home with them.

That they could wash dishes together and he could ask her what it all meant.

If she maybe…

Maybe liked him? As more than a friend?

If all the gazes and the touching and the longing he felt during their duets meant something. If it wasn’t just acting. If she wanted…

He shook his head.

He wouldn’t think any of this if he was in his right mind. The sleeping pills must be doing something to him. Wouldn't stop him from popping a couple when he got home.

For the first time in months, she didn't follow them to the door.

##

Hoseok had an uneasy feeling as they reached the top of the stairs to the apartment. Jimin could hardly stay on his feet. The fact that the kid was able to make it through the work day was amazing. Something was going to break, and soon.

Just keep running. Just keep running and ignoring.

Soft piano music came from inside. Just a melody. And…

He opened the door.

Jimin stumbled in, then froze.

“Yoongi?” he said.

“Shh,” Yoongi responded.

Hoseok had to take a moment.

Yoongi was there.

After three freaking months of being MIA, Yoongi was back.

He sat on the couch, his left hand playing a simple tune.

Jungkook was asleep, his head in Yoongi’s lap, Yoongi’s other hand resting on his shoulder.

“He’s sleeping,” Jimin said, “He’s sleeping. God. How long has he been out?”

“Nearly three hours,” Yoongi said.

Jimin’s breath cracked, and he practically ran toward the bedroom. He popped back out a moment later.

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

“Not until morning,” Yoongi said.

“You’re an angel!” Jimin said, and he skipped up behind the couch and kissed the top of Yoongi’s head. He ran back into the bedroom and shut the door, but Hoseok could still hear Jimin’s exhausted body fall onto the mattress.

“Did he just kiss me?” Yoongi asked, looking annoyed.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked.

“Taehyung found me. Said how things were.”

Hoseok wanted to yell at him.

Wanted to say that he didn’t deserve to just waltz back in here like this, when he’d hurt Jungkook so badly.

But…

“Are you really going to stay here all night?” Hoseok asked.

Yoongi nodded.

“You want to sleep there? We’ve got a camping cot, if that would be more comfortable.” 

“Sounds like three hours is a record for him,” Yoongi said, nodding down at Jungkook. “I’ll stay here. But, if you could move the keyboard and, like, maybe bring that chair over so I can put my feet up, that would help.”

Hoseok did as Yoongi suggested. He still wasn’t sure how he felt.

“You know you’re a jerk, right?” Hoseok said, as Yoongi kicked his feet up on the chair.

“Yup,” Yoongi said.

“And if you weren’t helping Jungkook sleep, I’d throw you out right now?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Yoongi said.

“Why?” Hoseok asked, “Why wouldn’t you come see him?”

“It’s complicated,” Yoongi said, “I’ll explain later. Taehyung says you’re taking sleeping pills?”

Hoseok didn’t know why he felt so guilty at the accusation. Plenty of people took sleeping pills. They weren’t illegal. Sure, Hoseok may not have gotten these pills through the usual means, but they were perfectly safe to take.

“If I want to eat I have to work and if I want to work I have to sleep,” Hoseok said.

Yoongi nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn't say anything else, and that was even more infuriating.

Hoseok was about ready to stomp off and take twice as many pills as usual and go to sleep, but—

He saw Jungkook.

Looking more like Jungkook than he had since they picked him up from the hospital.

“I’m going to the funeral tomorrow,” Yoongi said, “Jungkook said he needed me to, and after everything, well… I can’t say no.”

“Wait,” Hoseok said, “So he…”

“Cho Mikyeong,” Yoongi said, “The girl he met in the hospital. He never told her he loved her. She wanted to see him, earlier in the day, but he was too freaked out about how he felt to go just yet. He was taking her flowers, after dinner, but by then they were cleaning out her room.”

Hoseok’s knees nearly went out from under him. He clapped a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes.

“Hoseok, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok gasped, not wanting Yoongi to wake Jungkook in his concern. “I just… we’ve been trying all week to get him to tell us and nothing, and you're here a few hours and… and…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, “I won’t leave for so long again.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I just don't get it, you know? I just don’t get it.”

He didn't wait to see what Yoongi would say next.

He didn't want anyone to see him cry, so he crawled up into his bed, but once he was there, the tears wouldn’t come.

He pulled out his phone.

HOSEOK: _hey ik you said you were busy but if you have some time tomorrow afternoon and can come to a funeral with us that would be good._

JAE: _This is for JK’s girl right?_

HOSEOK: _yeah. she was close to jimin too. i just don’t know if i can be enough u know??_

JAE: _I’ll see what I can do._

He remembered her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

How she didn’t pull away as he kissed her hand.

That wasn’t something that “just friends” did.

He didn’t need the pills to fall asleep.

##

They’d waited around a long time.

So he could have this moment.

Just a moment, alone, next to the freshly covered grave.

The headstone wasn’t there yet. Probably would be next week.

Jungkook didn't have a bouquet. Just a single sprig of forget-me-nots. He’d held them throughout the funeral. Some of the blooms had been crushed, but all of them were still beautiful.

He laid the sprig on the dirt.

Knelt on the grass.

The shade of a big, leafy tree covered the site. He imagined, if this was a park and not a cemetery, it might be a place where you could sit and have a picnic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry, Mikyeong.”

When Yoongi had said he should try saying goodbye, he thought it would feel silly. It didn’t feel silly.

“I should have told you. Or not. Whatever. I should have gone to see you. I shouldn't have been scared. Because… well…”

He felt the tears on his cheeks.

“I loved you. I still love you. When I saw you were dead everything just sort of shut off. Because, well, I didn’t get to tell you everything. Not just about how I loved you. About… well…

“I would have taken you to Paris,” he said, “I would have kissed you on top of the Eiffel tower. I would have loved you even though I knew I’d lose you. I did love you, actually. Even if I never told you. Even if it wasn’t anything different than what we already had. I’m so glad I knew you. I don’t think I’d have made it, if you weren’t there. And I… I’m not sure I can make it now, you know?”

He sniffled.

“There was one thing I never told you,” he said, quieter, “I’m dying, too. I am. I don’t know how long I have, either. And I don't just mean I could get hit by a truck again or contract some deadly virus. I… I traded my life away. My future. My… my… my memory. To protect Yoongi and Jimin and everyone else I knew. I thought they were all I’d ever love, you know? I had no idea you were about to sweep in and change everything. I could have added you. Made you well. But… the timing wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

“I hate that you’re dead and I’m not. I hate that I never took you to prom or on any real dates, and that I never got to see you wearing a pretty dress or going off to medical school, because god, you would have been one hell of a doctor, you know that?

“I should probably go now. I just want to know, I’m glad you never forgot me. Everyone else will, but you didn’t, and, well, I guess you never will now. And I’ll remember you. As long as I can, okay?”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, and Hoseok’s dance friend were standing by the roadside, pretending that they hadn’t just been staring at him.

“I don’t know how the whole afterlife thing works,” Jungkook said, “Especially for me, since, well, I sold my soul to keep them safe. But I hope you’re happy. Wherever you are. I… I have to go. But. Well. I think I’ll just say I love you one more time. So. I love you, okay? I’m sorry I never said it when you could hear me. 

“It is too bad, though. Too bad we couldn’t live forever.”

##

Hoseok invited Jae to come eat with them, but she didn’t come. Had a professional pointe shoe fitting in Gangnam. The shank of her shoes was going out, and she’d break her foot if she kept dancing with them. Hoseok wasn’t sure what that meant. He thought the entire idea of pointe shoes was kind of insane.

He understood ballet a little better now. He still didn’t love it, but he felt the romance, the beauty, the classic-ness of the technique. Those shoes, though? He didn’t get them. He saw her feet when she took them off. Discolored blisters and blood seeping from around her toenails. It didn’t seem healthy, or sanitary, or safe. Standing all the way on the tips of your toes was cool and all, but was it worth the cost?

Jimin went to bed straight after dinner, and Jungkook went to shower. Hoseok didn’t ask, but Yoongi followed him into the kitchen and started drying dishes without complaint.

“You know,” Hoseok said, running a sponge around the interior of the rice cooker bowl, “You could move in here with us.”

“Yesterday you looked like you wanted to kill me,” Yoongi said, “And now you’re asking me to move in with you?”

Hoseok shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought, if you really want to be there for Jungkook”—

“I don’t know how it’s been for you and Jimin, but I’ve heard that roommates are rarely friends. Living together isn’t easy.”

“Sure, I guess not. But you’d save money, probably, if you gave up rent on your room and took on one-quarter of the rent here”—

“I’m fine,” Yoongi said, “I make enough money to support myself.”

Hoseok nodded. Yes. Of course. “Sure. I just wanted to offer. We were all so tired last night. But I think Jungkook’s turned a corner, thanks to you, and I can’t help but be grateful.”

“I just hope I don’t hurt him,” Yoongi said.

“You’re not going to, unless you vanish of the face of the map again.”

Yoongi didn’t respond to that. Hoseok handed him the bowl, and he dried it. Hoseok pulled the camping cot out of the closet, and Yoongi set it up next to the couch.

“You say Seokjin loaned you this?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah. Guess his dad had it and never used it. I thought I wouldn’t need it anymore after we moved and got beds, but we’ve used it a bunch. Hope he never wants it back, honestly.”

“He never came to see Jungkook either, did he?”

Hoseok shook his head and looked up at Yoongi. There was something strange in his friend’s voice, and in the tilt of his head. Like he was thinking very hard about something.

Hoseok almost asked him what.

But he didn’t.

Yoongi had enough on his own. He could support himself, emotionally and financially. He felt no pressing need to take care of others, and was only here because Jungkook desperately needed him. As soon as Jungkook was back to needing just a little bit—a little bit of money, a little bit of food, a couch to sleep on—it was all on Hoseok. All on Hoseok and his $8.50 an hour, forty-five to fifty hours a week. Well, and Jimin’s $10 an hour part-time. Maybe Jungkook could get a part-time job, too. But only ten or twelve hours a week, at the most. He had to graduate school.

There was nothing left of the dance competition money. The hospital had eaten all of it before he’d taken out loans. Loans with payments.

They needed another competition.

Why hadn’t Jae found one?

##

“Is that it?” Jimin asked, panting.

“No,” Jae said, “Your foot is still sickled during the turn. Keep it pointed straight, all they way through, like this.”

She demonstrated.

“Your face could use some work, throughout the piece. Put some dreaminess into it. You shouldn’t look like you’re working as hard as you are. Dancing is theatre. You have to act.”

Jimin bit his lip.

“How about you break for a little bit, while Hoseok and I work this number?”

Jimin nodded.

He felt like crying.

Why wouldn’t his stupid foot do the right thing?

He was learning a solo. One Jae had danced in her first team performance, back when she was twelve. He had almost all of it down, except a little series of three turns. Oh, and his face. That was obviously a problem as well.

Probably he was still just tired. He’d slept ten hours a night the past few nights. Thank goodness, Jungkook could sleep, even though Yoongi had gone home.

Jungkook could cry, too. And talk. And walk, even though it was apparent his back was still hurting him.

Jimin dozed off as he leaned against the wall, only to be jerked awake by shouting.

##

Jae slipped.

It was impossible, but it happened.

His arm was around her, so he kept her from falling, but still.

Her right foot collapsed as she tried to point it.

Her left one thunked onto the ground.

“DAMN IT!” she shouted, “Bloody shoes were supposed to fix this!” She gasped, and shoved away from Hoseok. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Salesman said… My feet should be fine… fricking lies…”

“Are you hurt?” Hoseok asked.

She didn’t respond. She just shoved past him, out of the studio room, her pointe shoes thudding against the floor.

He followed.

She marched down to the back office and jiggled the locked door until it popped open.

“What are you doing, Jae? Calm down.”

She didn’t reply. She sat down on a rolling chair and untied her shoes, pulling them off with a grimace. Blood soaked through the toes of her tights.

“God, that has got to hurt,” Hoseok said.

“Shut up,” she said, “Three hundred dollars, that’s what they cost. He said my feet would be fine. No taping, no wool. He was a bloody liar.”

Along the walls of the office, shelves full of boxes and drawers and piles of apparent junk stacked up towards the ceiling. Hoseok had never been in here before. It seemed the studio owner was very disorganized.

Jae stood and looked up at the shelf. “Of course, tape is at the top…” she muttered.

“I can get it for”—

She glared at him, with so much anger in her gaze that he stepped back.

She pushed the rolling chair over and stepped up onto it.

_Danger._

She still couldn’t reach the top shelf. He would have had to stand on the chair, too. But instead of asking, she stood on her bloody toes, pulling herself up until she reached the box she was looking for. It was stuck under something heavier, and she yanked it.

The box came free.

The chair slipped.

Jae inhaled sharply as she fell—

Hoseok lunged forward and caught her. He stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall with one hand as Jae got her feet beneath her.

“That could have been bad,” she said, “And all for a box of toe tape.”

He looked down at her.

She looked up at him.

She didn’t shove him away, or yell that she hadn’t needed his help, or critique him in any way.

Instead, she reached back and pulled three pins out of her hair, letting it fall loose down her back, all while keeping his gaze. Her lips parted slightly, and she tilted her chin.

“What do you want right now, Jung Hoseok?” she asked, her voice low.

What did he want?

Another dance competition they could win. For Jimin to be cured of his seizures. For Jungkook to not have been in that accident. For Hoseok's mother to come back, preferably with an inheritance from some rich uncle he’d never heard about.

But he couldn’t have any of that right now.

Right now?

“I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe,” he said.

“Then do it.”

##

They sure were taking a long time.

Jimin wondered if Jae had hurt herself. Those shoes looked really dangerous. Or maybe she was just putting on her sensible dance slippers. Except, her bag was still in this room, so…

He shook his head.

The dance floor was clear.

His cat nap had restored his energy.

He was going to practice the routine. Perfect it. When she was back, hopefully with just a bandage and not an ankle wrap, he’d show her.

He felt dance in his blood nearly as much as she and Hoseok did.

He could do this.

##

There had been a few girls, back in high school, that Hoseok had gone out with. He’d even kissed two or three of them. They always realized, somewhere around the second or third date, that there was no future in pursuing a relationship with an orphan who had no prospects of advancing himself. 

Everything always ended.

He knew this would, too.

He didn’t want it to.

It was all real.

She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

The emotions, the tension, the passion she put into her dances.

It wasn’t just acting.

He felt that his entire life, he’d just been waiting for this moment.

For this connection.

He didn’t know how long it had been. He felt he could never get tired of the shape of her. Of the spark in her touch, just as it was when they were perfectly in sync, dancing a complicated duet. 

Kissing her.

Her kissing him back.

His hand in her hair.

They broke apart—

Just for a moment—

An interlude—

A breath.

“Bored already?” he asked.

“We’re just getting started,” she said.

“I think I love you.”

His lips met hers again.

But the spark—

The connection—

He wasn’t surprised when she pushed him back.

“God, Hoseok.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “But I think I do, and I wanted to”—

“Shut up,” she said, her voice high.

“Okay, sorry, I”—

“I said shut up!” she stumbled back against the shelves, and he backed away from her.

“What’s wrong, Jae?” he asked, “What did I do? I’m”—

“ _Love_ me?”

“Sorry,” Hoseok said, blushing.

“You can’t love me,” Jae said.

“It was too fast, I’m sorry, I just, I think with all the sad stuff that happened to Jungkook, I think I just had to say it.”

“So you do?”

“What?” 

“Love me?”

“Yes,” Hoseok said, “I mean. We’re very good friends, and we were kissing, and”—

“It’s called lust, not love,” Jae snapped, “Hooking up with a hot girl in a back office doesn’t have anything to do with love.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I wasn’t…”

“I don’t love you,” she said.

“Then why”—

“Because you’re hot and you think I’m hot and I figured why not, before I”—

Her voice caught, and she shoved her hands into her hair, half sighing, half screaming. “God! Why is this so hard? It wasn’t supposed to be difficult, but no, you’ve had to make it a fricking nightmare!”

Hoseok had no idea what was going on. He’d process his feelings later. Right now, he was pretty sure he and Jae both needed to step away and take a breath.

“I’m leaving,” she shouted, “Don’t follow me!”

She ran out of the room.

##

It was impossible.

How was Jimin supposed to keep his foot straight and keep his face relaxed at the same time?

She’d shown him the video. Of her, as a little kid, dancing this routine like it was nothing. Like she was a speck of dust floating through the air.

He just couldn’t feel that. His mind knew it was because he didn’t have the training, the years of practice that she had had even before she was in seventh grade. But his heart said it was because he couldn’t win at anything.

He’d try a different approach.

Like he’d seen in her eyes in other dances.

Not light as a feather. Fierce as a knife. Every move cutting through the air with sharp ferocity.

And he did it.

Sure, he didn’t know for a fact that the routine looked good. But he felt in his bones that something was different. The fire was there. He wasn’t the twelve-year-old girl this dance had been choreographed for. He was an eighteen-year-old guy who was ready to fight for Jae’s approval, to show her that he could really dance, that he could bring his own to this piece.

He returned to the starting position.

Even more fire.

He wasn’t so weak as he had been.

Step, skip, jump, and turn—

She burst through the doorway.

He couldn’t stop.

He hit her, hard, and she crashed into the standing mirror.

##

Hoseok leaned back against the shelf. He saw her pointe shoes, kicked under the desk in the midst of their making out.

She’d need them. They were three hundred dollars, after all. Wouldn’t want them to get misplaced or lost in this mess of an office. He picked them up and went out into the hall.

But she had said not to follow her.

Maybe he should just set them out in the hall, then go back in the office. Let her come back and get them once she had her dance bag.

Glass shattered in the practice room.

##

Hoseok froze in the doorway.

The scene before him seemed impossible.

The vintage stand-up mirror was tipped over and shattered.

Jimin on his hands and knees, surrounded by glass shards.

Jae, sprawled on the floor, not moving.

“What the hell?” Hoseok said, still not sure what was happening.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jimin said, and then hissed, pulling his hand to his chest. “I was just dancing, and she came in so fast, I didn’t see her… I… I’m so sorry…”

Jae still hadn’t stirred.

Hoseok’s feet moved of their own accord.

“Jae, come on, get up,” he said, “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m fine,” she muttered, “I think I’m…”

She sat up, her eyes gazing vaguely into the middle distance.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok said, “Cause you look”—

Jae buckled forward and threw up.

“Oh, god, I’m calling an ambulance,” Hoseok said, rushing to his bag.

“No,” Jae choked, “You can’t. I can’t afford that.”

“But you’re hurt,” Hoseok said.

“Just hit my head,” she said, “I’m okay.”

“You’ve got to get it checked out.”

“There’s a hospital six blocks away,” she muttered, “I can walk there.”

Six blocks.

“Jimin, are you okay?”

“She hit her head on the mirror frame, I think,” Jimin murmured in response. He was staring at a line of red across his palm. 

“Can you help me?” Hoseok said.

“Yes,” Jimin said, his voice still foggy.

But he didn’t.

Hoseok helped Jae to her feet, and Jimin stumbled away from both of them. Hoseok heard the bathroom door slam shut.

“I don’t need you,” he heard Jae mutter, but her knees went out and he caught her.

God.

Only six blocks.

Couldn’t afford an ambulance.

“Come on. Get on my back.”

“Don’t… need you,” she muttered.

“Do it or I’ll call 911.”

She managed to throw her arms around his neck while he hoisted her up. He’d held her plenty of times. All of those times, however, she held herself, as well. Every muscle in tune with the dance move, prepping for the moment when she’d come down.

Now?

She just lay there. He felt her breath against his neck, but otherwise, there was nothing to tell him she was alive.

##

Jimin washed his hands.

He washed them again.

The blood.

The _blood._

He knew it was gone but he could still see it, still see it, still see it.

And

Cold

Alone

Aching head

The last living boy in the world

His hand was still bleeding.

He could feel it.

He didn’t look.

Kept his eyes closed.

If he saw it, this would just happen again. And again. He’d have seizures until it killed him. There was no way out.

No.

There had to be.

He fumbled in the darkness of the studio bathroom.

Wrapped toilet paper around his hand until he knew the blood couldn’t soak through.

Stumbled out of the bathroom. Squinting his eyes open just enough to see where he was going.

Back to the practice studio.

Back to get his hoodie.

He wrapped it around his hand, just to be safe, and stumbled back out.

How long had it been?

The sun wasn’t up.

Duh. The clock on the wall.

4:07. He’d been out for hours.

He could still feel the wound bleeding, even inside his hoodie.

He’d need stitches.

Six blocks. Hadn’t Jae said that?

And—

Yes—

He knew.

There was a hospital six blocks away.

He hadn’t been there as a patient.

He’d been there as a child.

When he was little. Before things went wrong.

Eating lunch with Mother and Father.

He wouldn’t go there.

The other hospital was half an hour away by metro, but the place of his imprisonment was not nearly so scary as the one where his mother might be working at this very moment.

##

It started to rain.

Jae still wasn’t moving.

He should have called an ambulance, but his phone was back in the studio and now, if she was right, they were halfway to the hospital.

There—

He saw it—

He rapidly glanced both ways before cutting diagonally across the street.

He nearly dropped her as he reached the other side. His attention pulled away from where he was going, as he adjusted his arms.

He gasped as his foot didn’t land where he expected. 

A pop sounded and pain shot up his leg, but he kept his feet.

He shouldn’t have kept running.

He knew with every fibre of who he was that he should have fallen. Should have sat down and stopped moving.

But Jae needed him to keep going, so that is what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no evidence in the source material of any ballet dancing, but I chose it for Jae's dance focus because it's the one I am most familiar with. 
> 
> Now that finals are over, I got caught up in cleaning and re-organizing my room and almost forgot to update :P But I remembered at the last minute, thank goodness. Next week, I'm going to give it my best try to update on Thursday, but if I miss Thursday, I'll be out of wifi until Sunday. So, Part 5, Chapter 3 will probably be Thursday with a chance of Sunday evening.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for any of you still finishing the quarter/semester, fighting!! You've got this! :)


	33. Spring Day: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, found a few minutes to post before I run off to the wilderness for the weekend :P Little shorter than last week's giant chapter.

Tomorrow, Kim Namjoon was starting university.

An impossible dream come true.

Yonsei was a ten-minute bus ride from his apartment. His _apartment_. That was another impossible dream that had come true.

There really was not much more he could want, right?

He didn’t see the others that much, since it took nearly an hour to get from his apartment to the neighborhood they lived in, and all of them seemed pretty busy. That could be one downside, but really, it wasn’t that bad. 

Taehyung and he had gone out for dinner last night. Things appeared to be all right with his friends. Yoongi had finally come to see Jungkook, and Jungkook seemed to be working through the death of his friend from the hospital. Jimin had a job, and, according to Tae, really enjoyed it. Hoseok danced all the time with his girlfriend (okay, not girlfriend yet, but Tae said it was only a matter of time), and had even heard rumors that he might be up for assistant manager in the next month or two. Seokjin still refused to see any of them except Taehyung, but he was taking care of himself. Taehyung was making sure of that.

They were okay. If Namjoon was going to die at some point himself, a little distance wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

Today was just a normal morning. The last of this normal before university normal began. He was walking home from the supermarket to get food for lunch and dinner for the rest of the week. A refrigerator was such a luxury.

That’s when she crashed into his life.

The girl squeaked, and Namjoon swore, as his phone skittered across the sidewalk.

“I’m so sorry!” she said.

He grabbed his phone, and sighed as he realized the screen hadn’t shattered. “No, it was my fault,” he said, “I wasn’t looking where I was”—

She was gathering books from the sidewalk.

Smart, college-level medical books. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “Let me help you.”

He grabbed a few near him. He didn’t understand what the titles meant. There were no pictures in these textbooks, unlike his beginning psych text he’d picked up the other day.

They both stood up. She had four books cradled in her arms, and seemed to be waiting for him to stack these two on top.

She smiled.

He’d never seen a smile quite like that. Sweet and light, and stronger in her eyes than her lips. She wore very little makeup, and there were freckles on her cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Her hair was back in a pony tail, and she wore no jewelry. Her outfit was simple but cute, and her shoes were red Converse.

“Umm, could I have my books? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” he said, and he felt a flush rising in his cheeks. He set the textbooks on top of her stack, and she rushed past him and onto a bus that was about to pull away from the curb.

He stood there for another minute.

Who was she?

She must have been older than him, to be advanced enough in her studies for those books. But she looked so cute. Practical, too. She seemed excited to be carrying that many books, not overwhelmed. Probably smart.

He’d probably never see her again. But maybe…

Just like that, he had another impossible dream.

##

Yoongi tried to play it cool as he walked into the hospital.

Hoseok wasn’t in any danger of dying, so there were no restrictions of going to see him. In fact, Yoongi would be the one taking him home when he was discharged in two hours.

Could this be his fault? No. Probably not. He wasn't cursed. Not entirely. This was just a freak accident. He hadn't seen Hoseok in days before it happened.

Hoseok sat up in the hospital bed, his busted ankle propped in front of him.

“Ouch,” Yoongi said, sitting next to the bed.

“Funny thing is, didn’t hurt so bad when it happened.”

“I heard from Jungkook that you told him you ran two hundred yards on it after you broke it.” 

“That’s the truth.”

“I heard from Jimin that you were running Jae to the hospital after she hit her head.”

“Is Jimin okay?”

“Yeah. Needed stitches, but only a couple. He can go back to work on the weekend.”

“I called my boss from the hospital phone,” Hoseok said, “He says they’ll work with my injury. Probably cut my hours a little. But I can work the till from a chair until I’m back on my feet.”

“Is Jae okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Minor concussion, looked worse than it was. She’ll be just fine in two weeks.”

“And you?”

“I’m okay. Just a broken ankle. Could have been a lot worse. I mean, what if I’d really tripped. Cracked my own head. Slipped and fallen in the roadway and got hit by a car. Dropped Jae and hurt her worse than she is.”

Yoongi stared at Hoseok.

Hoseok stared at the wall.

“Are you going to be able to dance again?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Ehh, I guess running on a broken ankle isn’t a great thing to do. But with physical therapy and patience and luck, I’ll be back in the studio soon.”

Still not answering the question.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I’m not,” Hoseok said, “I'd do it again. Jae needed someone to help her.”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“I don’t know, I just panicked.”

That sounded like a lie, and Yoongi wasn’t sure why. Seriously, if he thought she had a concussion, he should have at least called someone with a car. All that jostling could not have been good for her.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Yeah. For a bit. She has to stay till tomorrow.”

“We could stop by and say goodbye before we leave,” Yoongi suggested.

“No,” Hoseok said, quickly and firmly. “I’ll just see her at the studio later.”

Yoongi couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Hoseok was lying to him again. Lying about a lot of things. And there was something in his eyes…

Something that told Yoongi he should make sure and stop by the guy’s apartment even more often than he’d planned in the next few weeks.

##

Jaeyeon hadn’t meant to frick things up this badly.

She simply wanted to achieve her dreams.

Hoseok had been there to help her.

Her resume was impressive, before. But so were the resumes of hundreds of girls. Maybe thousands. All of them, born into ballet, chasing the ideal, starving themselves and working their muscles and routines and images until they became something not quite human. Goddesses. Carved from stone, with stone hearts the only thing that kept them going. 

Sure, hip-hop and interpretive were more fun. Jazz and street dancing and popping and tap and folk and contemporary. But ballet…

Ballet…

That was where she’d been given a shot.

She’d needed only one thing more. The win at that competition. Something to set her aside from the masses. So that they might ignore the fact that her body (though as thin as she dared be without hurting herself) was not ideal. That they might ignore the fact that she wasn’t fluent in English, not yet. That none of them could pronounce her full name.

_Jae Chance_. That’s the name she’d chosen for herself at her first international dance class. Maybe a little cheesy, but she felt attached to it.

She hadn’t meant to get attached to Hoseok.

In fact, after the competition, she hoped her ballet focus would scare him off. He had his own studio key. He could dance on his own time. Or, even, go do his own routine in the other practice room.

But he stayed with her.

She sort of liked him.

When she took him home that night, when Jungkook was first in the hospital, she hadn’t heard back from the first company. It was the day she should have heard. Which meant rejection. So she made him food. Tucked him into bed. Kissed his forehead when she was sure he’d drifted off.

Cleaning was necessary, but a good excuse. To be with him. To show him she cared without saying it. Because saying it, well. Saying that she loved him would be ridiculous. She was still leaving, even if this company had rejected her. And there was no way he liked her. They were friends.

Partners.

(God, she’d been lying to herself.)

He’d stayed. Through all the ballet. Through all the difficult duets that he honestly didn’t enjoy, or, at least, wouldn’t have had she not been his partner. She couldn’t deny what she felt as they danced. As the music and the beat flooded their souls, and she became more than she was.

It would end, she knew.

She’d sent auditions to a dozen more companies.

But he stayed, and she didn’t tell him.

He stayed, and she was pretty sure he loved it as much as she did.

She’d always found it hard to think of herself as attractive. Her father told her ballet would wreck her body. Boys didn’t really want skinny little girls who knew could jump and twirl but didn’t know how to make a proper meal or care for the house (couldn’t he see, she could do both?). They’d never want to marry her.

But there were other boys. The ones who didn’t care if a woman could take care of a household, because they never intended to share a home with them. She’d pushed her previous partner down a flight of stairs after he’d shoved her against a wall and kissed her. (He’d offered to walk her home, keep her safe, and she’d believed him, idiot, no one wanted to keep her safe).

But Hoseok—

Hoseok.

He wanted her.

But not just that.

He liked her. For her.

He was alone with her, time after time. He never did anything. Never pushed, never asked, never suggested. Like he knew that she was beyond him. That she’d never be with him. But he’d be there for her anyways.

Then her acceptance letter came. From the first company. They wanted her, and apologized for reaching out so late. Great starting pay. Ensemble to begin with, with chances of becoming principle within the next twelve months. They loved her style, her expression, her form.

She thought about saying no.

Thought about deciding to stay here. Take a teaching job at the studio. Tell Hoseok that she thought maybe they could make a life of it together, though she wouldn’t move in with him until Jimin had his own place. Preferably nearby. She liked the kid. He was cute.

And then, she decided against it.

Hoseok was just a man.

There were lots of men in the world.

There were very few instances of a lifelong dream coming true.

And then the shoes—

Giving out on her, like that. If anyone from the ballet company had seen that, they wouldn’t have taken her. A dancer couldn’t fall. Falling meant breaking meant never getting back up again.

Emotion was unpredictable. It’s why she always avoided it. Cool. Calm. Collected. Get the job done. But the anger, the frustration, the fear swept through her as she stormed to the office for the toe tape she shouldn’t need.

He’d caught her.

She’d been between him and the wall.

Dark office. No one there to stop him.

But he wouldn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want him to. If she asked him to step aside, he would have. She could have walked out of that office. Taped up her toes. Kept practicing.

But no.

She asked him, “What do you want right now, Jung Hoseok?”

“I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe.”

Such an innocent way to put it. She wanted it, too. Just to let go of the denial, the fighting, the pretending that he didn’t care about her and she didn’t care about him. 

For just a moment, to forget that anything existed except her and this boy she hadn’t meant to fall for.

And it was good. So good.

But then—

_“I love you.”_

It wasn’t right.

She had to get out.

She’d just hurt him more, if they went further.

And he let her go. 

He had all the power, and he let her go.

The rest was a fluke. A strange chance of nature. Landed her with a concussion. Jimin with stitches. Hoseok with an ankle busted so bad that he’d never dance the same way again.

The American company hadn’t fired her, even though she had to rest for two weeks. They said it was fine. Just a minor setback. She was still leaving the country on Saturday.

There was a price for everything. You gave the universe something, and you got something in return.

She thought she’d paid for the dream with the blood, sweat, and tears of her own work. But that wasn’t enough for fate. It needed more. It needed her to know that in exchange for her dream, Hoseok had lost the ability to pursue his.

Nothing to be done about it now.

Sure, she could stay. Give up the position in the dance company. Remain in Korea. Date Hoseok. Watch their lives fall apart as injuries and finances and reality hit them, as dance became a hobby then just a memory, until there was nothing left of the fire that pulled them together.

She wouldn’t.

She hadn’t asked Hoseok to run on a broken ankle.

Everyone suffered through heartbreak at one point or another.

She’d paid for this dream, and she wasn’t going to lose it.

But there was something she had to tell him first.

##

“I thought we already said goodbye,” Hoseok said as Jae entered his room. Yoongi excused himself before Hoseok could stop him, before Hoseok could say that he didn’t want to be alone with her, that he didn’t even want her here, that as far as he was concerned she was already in another country.

“Remember when I told you that Taehyung’s father beat him?”

Such a long time ago, but Hoseok nodded.

“I’m not that good at reading people,” Jae said, “I didn’t guess anything about Jimin, except that he was sick in some way.”

Hoseok stared at her. 

“You know a guy named Kim Seokjin?” she continued.

The look on Hoseok’s face must have answered for him.

“He told me. All of it. Paid me to tell you. It was before we won, and I needed the cash.”

“So you lied to me for money?”

“You’d have done the same thing,” Jae said, “It costs a lot, dancing does.”

Hoseok had never paid for dancing. Dancing paid him. Maybe not financially, but emotionally, psychologically, in terms of happiness. It was everything.

“It doesn’t make difference," she continued, "But I wanted to tell you.”

“I don’t know if I should say thank you,” Hoseok said, “And I don’t want to say goodbye again.”

For just a moment, that smile flitted across her face again.

He almost jumped up. Begged her. _Please don’t leave me._

(Even though he didn’t care and she obviously didn’t care and the sooner she was gone the better it would be for everything.)

“I’m leaving now,” she said, and she was gone.

##

Things were going to be okay.

They were going to be okay.

They just had to wait.

Hoseok would snap out of this.

Hoseok was recovering well.

Sure, he wouldn’t dance for a while.

But they’d take care of him.

These thoughts were all that kept Jimin going. He had to work. He’d taken on ten extra hours, because Hoseok was losing some, and they did need money. He wasn’t sure how much. Just that Hoseok seemed stressed. He didn’t want Hoseok to be stressed.

Why had Jae just left? Just like that?

Why hadn’t she told them?

He was excited for her. He really was. But it was so sad, that she’d just dropped off the map without a word.

He’d made Taehyung follow her professional Instagram account, because international texts cost too much to send. But she never responded to messages.

Three weeks had passed.

They were halfway through September. Jungkook and Tae were back in school. So was Namjoon. Jimin had been considering taking a class like Namjoon had, so he could work towards graduating, but then he’d taken the extra hours at work instead.

“Jimin, get over here!”

Jimin followed the sound of his boss’s voice.

“Take this to table 32,” he said, gesturing to a tray of food.

“But that’s Hyunjin’s section”—

“Now it’s yours. I’ve got to drive him to the ER.”

What?

Hyunjin’s voice:

“We’re going to have matching scars now, Jimin. Look here.”

Hyunjin was in front of him. Holding up his bloody palm.

“Come on, don’t let it drip,” said their manager, “I’ve got one more fire to put out, and then we’ll go."

“Funny, how red blood is,” whispered Hyunjin, “Just like the wine the couple at table 32 always asks for…”

Jimin brushed past him with the tray.

Tried to control his breathing.

It was fine.

It wasn't his blood.

Hyunjin deserved to get his hand sliced.

But how had it happened?

Damn. He knew the couple at the table.

They were never satisfied, no matter what Jimin did.

“Oh, you,” said the woman, “I thought Hyunjin was our waiter tonight.”

“He had something come up,” Jimin said, smiling, “I hope I can take his place sufficiently.”

“I suppose.”

He set their plates in front of them.

“We’d like our usual wine,” the man said.

Yes.

Yes, he could do this.

He returned the tray and selected the right wine. As long as his hands were firm around something, you couldn’t see them shaking.

He returned to the table.

Showed them the label.

Unscrewed the cork.

The pop was a little louder than it should have been, and the woman glared at him. “What are you, new? This place really is deteriorating.”

She knew how long he’d worked here.

Just pour the wine, and then leave.

His hands…

Just pour…

Someone was wearing some strawberry-scented perfume. It smelled just like the stained glass windows looked.

The wine poured into the glass.

Blood red.

The glass overfilled.

The woman yelled at him with bright green syllables.

The man’s swearing was more of a swirling white.

Someone called for a manager.

Blood pouring out of the bottle and staining the white cloth.

He just watched the wine pour out of the bottle, and—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a little Christmas short featuring the BTS characters during the Christmas of Year 19--so, ~2.5 years before this story started. I'll be posting a chapter a day beginning Monday and ending Christmas eve. It's just a bit of backstory, a bit of fluff and angst, written because I needed to get back into the headspace and motivation of those characters before I start drafting part 9. 
> 
> Spring Day: Chapter 4 will be posted on December 26th :) Hope you all have a merry Christmas.


	34. Spring Day: Chapter 4

As darkness fell, and Namjoon finished studying, he walked to his window. He was on the seconds story, so there wasn’t much of a view, but he could see the people.

Crowds of them, almost. Far more than he usually saw walking up and down the sidewalks. 

Because he had nothing else to do, he decided to go out and see what it was all for.

He followed a group of students, and, from their conversation, picked up that it was a night market. Not only that, but it was a night market that only showed up during the new moon. Because of the mystical nature, it was often shut down by the religiously concerned, and so never appeared in the same neighborhood twice.

Namjoon doubted there was anything magical about it. Seemed to be just a marketing strategy. When he reached the market, it didn’t seem very special, either. He remembered going to many just like it with his family, back before his father was sick.

His family was doing fine, now. Yuna was even in the city, at a boarding school. She said she didn’t want to meet him, though. She was busy with studying and sports—who knew she was good enough at track to get a scholarship? He certainly hadn’t. Kyeongeun and his mother were very happy on the farm with the grandparents. He called them most weekends, and though most of their conversations were short, they were sweet.

A lot of the stands sold food, or old books (nothing to rival the collection Namjoon had in his apartment), or clothes and trinkets. None of them caught his eye, not really, until one did.

“Hey there, you got a pretty girl to impress?”

Namjoon turned, because he knew the voice was directed at him. A middle-aged man sat behind a folding table under a canopy. Very basic. No sign, no tablecloth. But Namjoon walked over.

“You do have a girl, I see,” the man said.

Namjoon just smiled. It was an easy sales method. Easy to assume a guy like Namjoon would have a girlfriend.

He looked over the trinkets set out on the table. Everything was unique, probably picked up from other sales or antique stores. Old jewelry, nothing too expensive, and keys and chains and locks. A couple pocket watches, and one very old mantel clock. He looked at the clock. The second hand twitched back and forth between the 9 and 10.

“Broken, that one,” said the man, “Can’t quite get it ticking right again.”

“How much?”

“Oh, you couldn’t afford it if you wanted to.”

Namjoon set the clock down. He bowed, and was turning to leave, when the man spoke.

“Just take a look at these,” he said, and pulled a box out from beneath the table. “Much more affordable, and I think your girl might like it a little better than a broken clock.”

The box was full of hair ties.

Namjoon felt a shiver in his stomach.

“Hand-made in the middle of Faerie Country,” he said, “Brought them with me after my last time abroad. Already have magic in ‘em, and don’t bond well to anything else. You want to do your own spell, you’ll need something like a charm necklace.”

Namjoon smiled. “Magic?”

“Yessir. Everything’s magic, if you’re willing to let it be.”

Namjoon flipped through the hair ties. They were pretty, but simple. The girl with the pony tail might actually like one. If, of course, he ever spoke to her again.

“Kid came in a couple months back,” the man said, “Bought one of these keys, to put a protection spell on. I’d sure like to hear how it worked for him.”

“I think I’ll just take a hair tie,” Namjoon said, and his fingers landed on one that just felt right. He pulled it out of the box. It was dark brown, with golden embroidery in complicated knots that reminded him of some of patterns drawn in the margins of his favorite book.

“Three dollars,” the man said.

“So cheap?”

“I’ll take four if you want to give it.”

Namjoon gave him five. It felt a little wrong about paying more than the price asked. It would have felt more wrong, however, to take the hair tie for less than he thought it was worth.

“Thank you,” Namjoon said, bowing.

“You’re a smart one,” the man replied, “Keep your eyes on the clock, and we’ll meet again.”

##

The girl with the pony tail took his same bus home from Yonsei every day at 5:45.

He wasn’t stalking her. The 5:45 bus was also an ideal one for him to take. After spending a couple hours studying in the library, he went home on that bus in time for dinner, and then studied more before bed. It was the only consistent time he would see her in the day, and the only time he could maybe get up the courage to say hello.

He hadn’t yet.

Two whole weeks into the school year, and he was still too chicken to do anything except occasionally glance at her on the bus.

He’d learned a few things about her. She was a med school student. First year, he was pretty sure. She lived off-campus somewhere in his neighborhood, in the opposite direction from the bus stop that he went. He had never followed her, because that really would make him a stalker. She seemed to always be studying, though he had seen her on campus with a group of med student friends a few times.

And she always wore a pony tail. Not even a fancy one. Just practical, keeping her hair out of her face.

Today, he was going to approach her. Give her the hair tie he’d probably spent too much on. It seemed much less magical in the light of day, but it was still pretty.

First, to say hello.

Give it to her.

Try to explain that he’d noticed her around campus, and on the bus every day, and make it casual and not creepy.

He sat down in his usual seat, a few rows back and across the aisle from her, because he was unreasonably nervous. There was a seat just across from her. He could take that. He could have…

She wasn’t reading her book.

She was just leaning against the window of the bus, her bag in the seat next to her. At the next stop (there were only three between school and home), he moved forward to the seat across the aisle.

Her head was tipped back, her mouth slightly open, a book full of tiny print open on her lap.

Asleep.

He couldn’t wake her up. She looked really tired. And he couldn’t talk to her when she was awake, anyways. He’d never get up the courage. He’d be holding onto this stupid hairband until he was an old man if he waited to talk to her first.

Well, she could use it, even if he wasn’t brave enough to tell her it was from him.

As the bus pulled up to the stop, he dropped it on top of her bag before getting off.

He was halfway home before he realized how stupid he’d been. 

“Come on, idiot!” he said to himself, slapping his forehead. “Now she slept past her stop. How stupid can you be? God.”

He sighed.

Nothing for it now.

Hopefully she hadn’t noticed he was on the bus with her every day. Because if she had, she’d know that he knew she was there, and that she always got off at his stop, and he hadn’t even had a thought to wake her up.

This girl was a dream he didn’t deserve. Besides, he was going to die young, anyways. No need to put anyone else through that. Look what it had done to Jungkook, watching the girl he loved die.

His phone buzzed.

It wasn’t a number he knew. Generally, he let these go to voicemail.

But he knew he should answer it, deep in his soul. 

Wait. 

He didn’t have one of those anymore, did he?

“Hello?”

“Is this Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes, this is him.”

“This call is coming from the South Central hospital. A young man was brought in about an hour ago, and he says you are his emergency contact.”

“Is it Taehyung? What happened?” He knew he was wrong even as he said it.

“No, it’s Park Jimin. Is this the right number for him?”

“Yes,” Namjoon said.

“He had a seizure and suffered some minor secondary injuries. He’s ready to go home, but I highly recommended someone accompany him in case there are any complications.”

“I can be there in, umm, half hour.”

“I’ll let Mr. Park know. We’ll see you soon.”

She hung up.

Namjoon stared at the screen of his phone.

Why in the world would Jimin call him?

Hoseok and Jungkook lived with the guy, and according to Taehyung, both he and Yoongi were around all the time, too. Seokjin was the only one of them who had a car. South Side hospital was closer to Namjoon than the hospital Jungkook had recovered at, but still, it was probably closer to the other guys. And even if Hoseok had a broken ankle, he was getting around pretty well now on his crutches, and (again, according to Taehyung) had even gone back to work.

Namjoon was happy to go help Jimin, of course. But it just made no sense, and that’s what worried him.

##

With Jimin’s consent, the nurse told Namjoon what had happened.

“He had a seizure at work. He felt the warning signs, but couldn’t get to a safe place in time. The seizure lasted three minutes, according to a witness. An ambulance was called, and the seizure had ended by the time it arrived. He hit his forehead during the episode, but it wasn’t so bad as the employee who called us feared. Head wounds bleed more than you expect. We’ve bandaged the cut, checked for concussion, and adjusted his medication. It’s probably best that he stay quiet for a few days.”

Through her entire summary, Jimin just sat in a chair and stared at his shoes. His hair hung over the bandage on his forehead, and dark circles stood out stark against his pale skin.

“Rough day,” Namjoon said, and put a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

“It’s a long ways,” Jimin said.

“Not too far. And Jungkook’s been begging me to have dinner with you guys and”—

“I don’t want to go home,” Jimin whispered.

“What?”

“Do you have room at your place? I don’t want to… to go home tonight.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Have you called Hoseok yet?”

“I have his phone,” Jimin said.

“Jungkook, then?”

Jimin shook his head.

“You’ll have to,” Namjoon said, “They’re going to be worried if you don’t come back.”

Jimin didn’t say anything to that. He clasped his hands together and made no sign of getting out Hoseok’s phone. “Can we just go, please? I’m so tired.”

“Yeah. Come on.”

The nurse gave Jimin his prescription. He could hardly hold it, so Namjoon took it and put it in his pocket. Jimin followed him to the metro, then the bus, then up the stairs to his second-story apartment.

Jimin took a handful of quick steps towards the couch and collapsed onto the cushions, hugging his arms over his eyes.

“Now are you going to tell me what really happened?” Namjoon demanded, sitting on the coffee table in front of Jimin.

“Just a seizure, nothing special,” Jimin muttered.

“Then why don’t you want to go home?”

Jimin shrugged as best he could, his arm still hiding his eyes.

“I’ll call Jungkook.”

“I got fired,” Jimin said, “Baek Hyunjin wanted me fired and he did it.”

“What?”

“He cut his hand on purpose, I know he did, just when the most demanding customers were there, and the red wine, and I had no control, none, do you know what it’s like for your body to do the opposite of what you’re telling it to do?” His voice was sharp and high, and he curled in on himself.

“Why’d they fire you?” Namjoon asked.

“Because I spilled wine all over a guest and freaked the entire restaurant out by convulsing on the floor like I was possessed.”

“That doesn’t seem legal.”

“I didn’t disclose my condition, and since it was one that directly affected my work, there’s nothing I can do. Even if there was, I could never go back there again.”

Namjoon wasn’t sure what to do with this.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Let me sleep,” Jimin said, “And don’t tell Hoseok anything.”

Namjoon went into his bedroom—a closet of a space barely bigger than his double bed—and sat down with his laptop (an older one, true, but still a laptop) and began working on an essay that was due at the end of the week. He texted Jungkook to say Jimin had had a seizure at work, and was staying the night with him.

Just after ten, as he was putting the final touches on his first draft, his phone rang. Jungkook’s number.

“Hello?”

“Is he okay?” Hoseok, as he’d expected.

Namjoon peered out the open door at the couch. “Yes,” he said, and carefully closed the door.

“Why didn’t he come home? Why didn't he call us? He has my phone, he could have. Did he get hurt?”

“One question at a time,” Namjoon said. “He’s… he’s okay. Hit his head, I guess, during the seizure, but it wasn’t bad. He’s sleeping now.”

“Good. He’ll probably sleep a while. I can try and get off work, get over there to be with him”—

“No,” Namjoon said.

“What? But he”—

“He’s fine here,” Namjoon said, “I’ll bring him home on the metro tomorrow after class.”

“Are you sure, I could”—

“You have a busted leg and a job you need to be at,” Namjoon said, “He’ll probably just sleep until I get home from class, anyways. I think he wants to be alone for a little while.”

Hoseok sighed. “He was at work when it happened?”

“Yeah.”

“In front of customers?”

“Yup.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“He doesn’t want me to tell you anything.”

Hoseok stayed silent for a minute. And then, “When do you think you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Five, maybe five-thirty,” Namjoon said. He’d have to take an earlier bus home, but he already knew he had no chance with the med school girl, so what was the point of staying late? Homework could be finished over the weekend. 

##

Hoseok switched his shift so he could be home when Jimin and Namjoon arrived. He hadn’t expected that others would have showed up, as well.

Taehyung was huddled on the couch with Jungkook, watching something on one of their phones, both of them still in their school uniforms.

“Did you guys even think to start dinner?” Hoseok snapped, as he limped in.

“I’ve got it,” said Yoongi’s voice from the kitchen.

“I didn’t invite everyone over,” Hoseok said, “You’ll eat us out of house and home.”

“I brought meat,” Yoongi called again from around the corner.

“And Seokjin sent me with some sides,” Taehyung said, “I tried to convince him to come, but he’s a stubborn idiot so he wouldn’t.”

“Jae posted on Instagram,” Jungkook said, “Wanna see?”

Hoseok did, and he didn’t. But they didn’t know the manner of Jae’s departure, so he went to see Jungkook’s phone.

It was a short video. Her first day of practice at the New York company. She looked great. The caption was to the point and positive. There were several hundred likes already.

“Sucks she left,” Jungkook said, “You guys were cute together.”

“She was just a friend,” Hoseok said, with a very convincing laugh.

The door lock beeped.

Namjoon opened the door, and Jimin shuffled in behind him.

“Namjoon, yo!” Taehyung said, “It’s been forever, man. Does college really drain all your time?”

“Nah, I just found a bunch of newer, cooler friends,” Namjoon teased, “No time for you anymore.” But he fist-bumped Taehyung as the younger boy came over, and then pulled Jungkook into a brief hug. “Glad to see you on your feet, kid.”

Jimin stayed a little behind Namjoon.

“Jimin, you okay?” Taehyung asked.

“Great,” Jimin lied.

He wouldn’t look at Hoseok.

“I brought some board games from Seokjin’s,” Taehyung continued, “Wanna get one set up with us?”

“I think I… I think I’ll rest for a little before dinner.”

Taehyung looked like he was about to argue, but Jungkook elbowed him and he rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But you’ve got to play after dinner. This one I brought is so fun, there are spies and enemies, and you’ve got to try and figure out who’s who, and”—

“I think I’ve played that one before,” Namjoon said.

“With your lame new college friends?” Taehyung said with a fake pout.

“Nah, it was a really long time ago. I feel like one of Yuna’s friends brought it over once.”

Jimin slipped away, closing the bedroom door noiselessly behind him.

Hoseok followed a minute later. 

A minute later, because he needed a moment for himself first. To slip into the bathroom, to take a couple pain pills. To come out again, with no one asking any questions.

(Why would they ask questions? There was no reason. None at all. It was too easy.)

He knocked softly on the bedroom door, and when there was no answer, he opened the door and limped inside.

Both beds were on the ground now that Hoseok had busted his ankle, which meant the dresser had been moved out into the living room for the sake of space. Jimin was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. His hands rested on his knees, fingers trembling.

“Are you going to have another seizure?” Hoseok asked.

“Nope,” Jimin whispered.

“Then what’s going on? Why wouldn’t you come home yesterday?”

Jimin just shook his head.

“Come on. Tell me.” Hoseok shifted his weight, leaning heavily on his crutches.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s a seizure. Nothing to be sorry for. You can’t help it.”

Jimin’s eyebrows scrunched together and he closed his eyes. His breathing was short, and his shoulders tense.

“Just spit it out, kid,” Hoseok said, “What’s wrong?”

“I got fired,” Jimin said, “I got fired and now we won’t have enough money and how am I ever going to find another job and”—

Hoseok swung himself over to the bed, leaned his crutches against the wall, and dropped onto the mattress next to his friend. A second later his arms were around Jimin, and the kid was crying in earnest.

“It’s fine,” Hoseok said, “We’ll be fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, we need the money,” Jimin said, “I know we do.”

“Sure. We need money. But things have a way of working out.”

(Did they?)

“I mean,” Hoseok continued, “You will get another job.”

(But could he? If anyone checked with his previous employer…)

“And we’ll be okay, financially, with just my paycheck.”

(They wouldn’t. In a couple months, the loan agents would be pounding on the door.)

“Really?” Jimin asked.

“Really,” Hoseok said, “It’s fine.”

(It wasn’t. It was the opposite of fine.)

“I guess I could go to that… that job fair… with Jungkook next week…”

“Yeah, great idea,” Hoseok said. "You could do that.

(He might not be able to pay rent next month.)

##

They ate dinner together.

Hoseok was quieter than he usually would have been, before he broke his ankle. Before the pharmacist had just handed him that bottle of pills. Stuff that he’d had to steal before.

He watched Taehyung, joking with Namjoon. Yoongi, drawing Jungkook out of his shell as the game progressed. Jimin, beating them all at the spy game and laughing, now that he knew Hoseok wasn’t upset at him.

Hoseok felt outside of them all.

Yoongi was doing well for himself with his music. He lived in a rented room, but Hoseok had no doubt that he could find a little apartment, with enough room for Jungkook to move in. Jungkook had always liked Yoongi best, and they seemed to be getting through whatever had caused Yoongi to stay away during Jungkook’s injury. The medical bills were all in Hoseok’s name. Jungkook would never have to worry about them.

Taehyung pretended that he hated living with Seokjin, but you could tell, beneath all of that, that it wasn’t so bad. He liked the independence. He liked Seokjin, too, even if he was suspicious the guy was hiding something.

Namjoon had found his place. A free college education. An apartment. A job in the campus library he was starting next week. The life he’d always wanted. Studying, learning. And most importantly, enough room in his apartment for a kid who sometimes had seizures and needed looking after. A kid who was brilliantly good at being there for you, at making hard decisions, at being a light in dark places.

Hoseok was falling apart. He didn’t feel so bad about it, but it was the truth.

Jae hadn’t really loved him. Or she had, but she’d messed up, and he’d messed up, and she was gone, anyways. As she should be. He’d die for a spot on a dance company in New York. It was a dream you couldn’t pass up.

He would never dance with her again, and more than that, he’d never dance.

He’d really done a number on his ankle, even though he hadn’t felt a thing. Two more surgeries would be necessary over the next twelve months, which meant more medical bills, which meant, well.

There was no way out, financially.

And then the pills.

A begged-for extension at the pharmacy that was quickly granted.

Narcotics that he didn’t think he could stop taking.

That he didn’t want to stop taking.

He knew he’d had a problem for a while. Years. He could always quit, though. For a short time. Sometimes weeks, before he got dragged down again. Jimin might have suspected, once or twice, but Hoseok was really good at hiding things.

This time, though. He knew there was no quitting, because the alternative was gone. There was no dance to kill his pain, and there never would be again. 

He was lucky. People liked him. The pharmacists and doctors would keep giving him pills as long as he asked.

All that remained was debt, and working, and kids depending on him who would be so much better depending on someone else. Who had other people they could depend on, if only Hoseok wasn’t here.

Jungkook said something that must have been funny, because everyone laughed, and Hoseok joined in. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t know the truth. 

He felt okay right now. The drug slowed his senses, killing the pain in his ankle and his mind. Almost like he was fading away.

Maybe it would be better if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry day-after-Christmas everyone!! A couple notes this week:
> 
> -I posted a holiday short about these BTS characters during Christmas of Year 19. It's just fluff, angst, and character background, and has nothing important to do with the plot of this story, but if you want to read it it's here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229226/chapters/69175401
> 
> -Things are going to get crazy, schedule-wise, for me. Winter quarter starts in a week and I'm starting a new job, too, so I'm really not sure which day of the week I'll be updating. I promise I will continue to update weekly, and right now, I'm thinking the day will be Sunday? But it's hard to tell until university/my job actually start.
> 
> -Hope you enjoyed the chapter! You can expect Part 5, Chapter 5 sometime between Thursday, 12/31/20 and Sunday, 1/3/21. (My gosh. I can't believe it's going to be 2021.)


	35. Spring Day: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna throw a general trigger warning on this chapter, okay? Read the tags for the work and proceed with caution. If you've read this far you know what to expect.

In the three months that Yoongi had spent pretending that it was his fault, Jungkook had changed. In some ways, he was still the sweet, quiet kid that Yoongi had always known. But there was something different in his voice. In his eyes.

He still liked to hang out on rooftops, and that was where Yoongi found him tonight.

“Wouldn’t have thought this roof was high enough for you,” Yoongi said, crossing to where Jungkook sat with his back against something metal that might have been part of the air conditioning system.

“It’s not,” Jungkook said, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky, “But I don’t feel like wandering so much anymore.”

“Growing up, maybe?”

“My back gets these weird twinges when I walk too far,” he said.

“Sorry,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook shrugged, and Yoongi sat beside him.

“You staying the night?” Jungkook asked

“I guess. Jimin begged me to come. Said Hoseok’s been too tired to make breakfast lately, and he wants to eat something good before the job fair tomorrow.”

“I won’t disagree with him. Your eggs are way better than Hoseok’s, anyways.”

Yoongi snorted. “No idea why. I’ve hardly cooked at all since high school.”

“Yeah, but whenever you’d cook for me back then, it was amazing. I thought it was just cause you were rich, and maybe rich people had special eggs that tasted better, but nah. Last time you made breakfast for us was just as good, and Hoseok gets eggs from the nearly-expired clearance shelf.”

“Heh. Well, glad I can do something right.”

“Yeah, after doing so many things wrong,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi didn’t have a defense. He had done everything wrong.

“Because you’re always thinking about the world centered around Min Yoongi,” Jungkook continued, “And not the world as an unbiased whole.”

Before, Jungkook would not have confronted him so directly, but the words were all the sort Jungkook would use.

“Why do you think the world was centered around you?” Jungkook asked, “Why did you think the world would hurt me to punish you?”

Yoongi still remained silent.

“Do you regret choosing music over your family’s money?” Jungkook continued, “You could be living the good life right now, if you’d just quit piano.”

“That life was not one worth living,” Yoongi said.

“I still don’t know why you tried to kill yourself,” Jungkook said, “Not really. I mean, I know you’re depressed. And you were drunk all the time after they kicked you out of school. But why _then_? Why on May 2nd?”

_Why?_

That was a good question.

“I’ll tell you,” Yoongi said, surprising even himself, “But it might be… kind of scary, so I need you to promise me something first.”

“Anything,” Jungkook said, unable to hide the desperation in his tone.

“You need to tell me a story afterward. Something happy, something good that happened, so when we go back down to the apartment we won’t look like the world’s ending and scare Jimin.”

Jungkook nodded. Yoongi turned around so he could see Jungkook’s face while he told him.

“I had… a very strange dream,” he started, “I don’t what it came from. Not entirely. I think it started when… when Seokjin came back.”

“April 11th?” Jungkook suggested, and Yoongi knew the kid wasn’t entirely blind to what was happening to them.

“April 11th,” Yoongi said. “In this dream, you were dead.”

“I fell, didn’t I?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes. You fell. I… I remember seeing your body on the pavement. The police assuming it was a suicide. And I remember watching them bury you. That’s when I knew I didn’t want to live anymore.”

“Wait, what?”

“These memories were so real they felt like visions,” Yoongi said, “It’s why I planned on killing myself on April 11th.”

“But you didn’t”—

“Seokjin stopped me. Sent me to find you. And I did.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows drew together. “But I didn’t die,” he said, “I might have fallen, if you didn’t find me that night. But you did, and I was totally okay on May 2nd. So why then?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I felt it was just a matter of time. I felt I was cursed. You weren’t the first person who I loved that died, so I thought that maybe it was fate. As long as my passion for music remained, everything else would burn. So I thought I should burn first.”

“That’s stupid,” Jungkook said.

“Didn’t seem stupid, until you nearly killed yourself saving me.”

“I’d do it again,” Jungkook said.

“Good thing I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” Yoongi replied.

The quiet rested between them for another minute.

“I remember things, too,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You said you remember me being dead.” Jungkook folded his hands together and looked down at his shoes. “I remember dying. Falling. And, I also remember… not falling. But it wasn’t you that stopped me. I think… I think it was Seokjin? Maybe? Or Namjoon? And after that, we were at the hospital, and you… _you_ were the one dying.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They were trying to save you, but your heart stopped, and then”—

“All over again?” Yoongi suggested.

Jungkook nodded. “Curious, isn’t it? All these memories that didn’t happen? Because they weren’t dreams. You know they weren’t dreams.”

“We’ve both died before, then,” Yoongi said.

“Unfortunately.”

“But how come we’re not dead now?”

Jungkook looked like he might answer, but he faltered. “I don’t know.”

“I think we need to talk to Seokjin.”

“He’s more scared of me than you were,” Jungkook said, “I don’t think he’ll ever talk to me again.”

“We’ll have to find a way.”

“Can I tell you my story now? I’m tired of thinking that maybe I’ve died before.”

Yoongi nodded.

“The last time I was with Mikyeong, we were out on the roof.”

This did not feel like a happy story, but Yoongi let him continue.

“I showed her the stars, and then we imagined we were at a school dance together. I don’t know. She was really pretty. And she was the coolest kid I’ve ever known. And after we were being dorks and, like, sort of slow dancing on the roof, she said that if she could live forever, she thought she might just fall in love with me.”

Damn.

“That threw me, you know? Because I hadn’t realized until then how special she was. How much I liked her. How much she liked me. Just for being me, and not just for being someone who would listen to her.”

Jungkook sniffed and hugged his arms around his chest.

“If I wasn’t such an idiot,” Yoongi said, “I could have met her. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“You’d have liked her, I think,” Jungkook said, his voice unsteady. “Everyone who met her liked her. She was just that sort of person. I mean, maybe some people might have thought she was annoying. But I didn’t. And Jimin didn’t. And god, she was so great. I’m going to be missing her my whole life, I think.”

Jungkook took a moment. “But it’s good. I mean. Bad she’s dead. But good I can remember. Even if I’m crying”—

He choked up for a second, and Yoongi felt the emotion in his chest, too.

“It’s not all bad crying? If that makes sense? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Yoongi said.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, and for the first time he looked away from Yoongi. Like he was hiding something?

Yoongi didn’t press it. He felt he didn’t want to know what Jungkook meant in that single syllable.

“I’ll be ready to go inside in a minute,” Yoongi said, standing and taking out a cigarette.

He waited for Jungkook to tell him he shouldn’t.

That smoking was awful and dangerous and was just a slower form of suicide.

But Jungkook didn’t say anything. Just watched, as Yoongi walked far enough away so the smoke wouldn’t bother the kid, and flicked his lighter.

##

Hoseok leaned on the bathroom counter and stared at the nearly-empty bottle of pills. Why were there so few left? He’d only gotten them, what… just… a few…

He didn’t feel right. He’d taken too many this time. Not just enough to get high. This… this was too many. He felt it in his blood. In how he felt his heart beating.

He should tell someone.

He didn’t want to die.

But…

He _couldn’t_. He couldn’t tell them. The idea of them knowing—of what would happen after—the shame of everyone knowing his secret, that he couldn’t keep it together, hadn’t ever been able to…

Maybe he’d be fine.

And if he wasn’t…

He considered taking the last few pills. Since they were almost gone. Anyways.

And then he didn’t.

He’d go back to sleep.

Maybe he’d wake up.

Maybe he wouldn’t.

He didn’t care.

But they couldn’t know.

He put the pill bottle back and stumbled through the grey fog in his head. He saw Yoongi, on the camping cot. Jungkook buried in blankets on the couch. And in the bedroom, Jimin sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed, sleeping.

Sleeping was so nice.

Hoseok got back into his own bed, where his pounding heart had woken him just five minutes earlier. His heart wasn’t pounding now. Just beating. Slow and normal. Maybe slower than normal?

No. He’d be fine. He was always fine.

He closed his eyes.

##

The next morning, in Hoseok’s kitchen, Yoongi scraped dried egg out of the pan while Jungkook and Jimin rushed around getting ready.

“Do you really think this shirt is fine?”

“Should I comb my hair this way, or like this?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’d better get out of here, if you don’t want to be late,” he called.

“Hoseok said he’d see us off,” Jungkook said, popping into the kitchen, “But Jimin can’t wake him up.”

“Seriously?” Yoongi said, trying to sound light, but a cold shiver ran up his spine. Hoseok had been awake two hours ago. He’d heard him get up, use the bathroom, and go back to bed. Yoongi set the pan down in the soapy water and walked towards the bedroom.

Jimin was putting his socks on while Jungkook poked at Hoseok’s sleeping form under the blankets.

“Leave him alone,” Yoongi said, “He needs his rest if he’s going to heal.”

“He went to bed as soon as he got home last night,” Jimin said, “And he promised he’d be up.”

“I’m here to see you off and wish you luck,” Yoongi said, “You guys need to leave, now, or you’ll be late.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi sharply, and then glanced at Jimin. “Yeah, come on,” Jungkook said, “Let’s go. Bet I’ll be outside before you!” Jungkook dodged out of the room, and Jimin was after him in a second.

“Good luck!” Yoongi called after them.

“See you tonight!” Jimin called back, and the door slammed behind them.

Yoongi swallowed and went to Hoseok. The kid was lying still in his bed. Not moving.

“Hey, man,” Yoongi said, shaking his shoulder roughly. “You have to get up.”

Hoseok didn’t respond.

Yoongi pulled back the blanket and shook him harder. Hoseok’s face was turned away from him. Yoongi grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him. Yoongi’s heart raced at how pale he looked, and how cold and off his face felt. He didn’t want to, but he felt Hoseok’s throat.

For a moment, he thought the worst had happened, that he was too late, that Hoseok’s heart was stopped. But, no. He felt it. Light, but a pulse all the same.

“Hoseok, get up!” he said again, and slapped his face.

Hoseok moaned.

“Come on,” Yoongi said, “Tell me what you did, man.”

“Go… 'way…” Hoseok moaned.

“Not happening.”

“I’m… so tired… just lemme…”

Yoongi let him go. He raced to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He knew Hoseok had meds for his pain—where were they? The only thing on the shelf was a mess of toothbrushes, Jungkook’s allergy pills, and Jimin's seizure medicine.

He opened the cupboard under the sink. Just extra rolls of toilet paper, as always, but…

He reached up, behind the drain, and found two bottles.

One bottle was a half-empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills, and he’d never heard the name of person written on the label.

The other had Hoseok’s name on it, thank goodness. His pain meds. 

The label told him it was a two-week supply, filled three days ago.

He opened the bottle. Only four pills were left.

Yoongi swore and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He ran back to the bedroom.

“What’re… doing…” Hoseok muttered.

“Calling a fricking ambulance,” Yoongi said.

“No… can’t…” Hoseok tried to lunge for him, but barely made it three inches before keeling over on his side. “Can’t afford…”

Now that Hoseok's eyes were open, Yoongi saw how wrong they looked.

The 911 operator answered. Yoongi read her the labels off the bottles. She said an emergency crew was coming.

“What else can I do?” he asked.

“Keep him awake.”

He glanced down at Hoseok and thought he’d failed already. Hoseok’s eyes had drifted closed again. Yoongi reached under his arms and sat Hoseok up, shaking his shoulders.

“Look at me. You have to look at me.”

Hoseok shook his head and moaned. Yoongi slapped him. He’d apologize later. “Look at me.”

Hoseok opened his eyes, but couldn’t seem to find a focus.

“Just go… away…” Hoseok said.

“You’re not freaking dying today,” Yoongi said.

“Wanna… sleep…”

“Come on. Say something else. You’re not sleeping.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Maybe not.” Yoongi grabbed Hoseok chin and forced him to look at him. “But I know dying isn’t going to fix it. Okay? So you gotta keep awake.”

“I don’t want… Jimin…”

“Yeah. Jimin doesn’t want you to die,” Yoongi said, “You know how much it will hurt him, if he comes back and you’re dead? You know that?”

Hoseok shook his head slowly.

“Well, lemme tell you, it will. It will. He loves you, man, and so does Jungkook, and so do I.”

“Too… late now.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi said, “You messed up but we can fix it. We can fix it. You just have to stay awake, okay?” 

It seemed like ages before Yoongi heard the sirens. He ran and propped open the door, then went back to Hoseok. His eyes were nearly black. He grabbed Hoseok’s wrist, and his pulse was even fainter.

“They’re almost here. Almost here.”

Hoseok didn’t respond.

The EMTs rushed into the apartment. Yoongi stood back as they put Hoseok on a stretcher. Shouted all sorts of medical jargon he couldn’t understand, either because he was too dumb or because nothing felt real right now.

One of them stuck a syringe in Hoseok’s arm.

Yoongi followed them out.

They didn’t ask if he was family. They didn’t ask anything, thank goodness. He climbed into the ambulance and watched and hoped that Hoseok hadn’t done anything that modern medicine couldn’t reverse.

##

Hours later, and they let Yoongi go see him.

So much had happened.

The waiting. The meeting with Dr. Lee. Not particularly legal, since Yoongi wasn’t blood related to Hoseok, but Dr. Lee made his own rules.

And finally, sitting down next to Hoseok’s bed, waiting for him to open his eyes.

Was this what Jungkook had felt, all those months ago?

Yoongi’s hands shook. His heart raced. He wanted a cigarette more than anything, but it was too late now. They’d throw him out if he smoked in a patient’s room. Maybe he wanted them to throw him out. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to Hoseok.

He wondered if Hoseok wished he was dead.

Dr. Lee had told him how much Jungkook’s recovery had cost. Had given him an estimate on how much Hoseok likely owed to various medical loan companies. And then there was Hoseok’s own injury, with the cost of the initial bone setting and the coming surgeries he’d need if he wanted full use of his ankle again.

How could he convince Hoseok that it was better to be alive?

Especially when he understood. When he still felt it all the time. All through those three months. Music. Eat. Sleep. Keep living just because he’d promised Jungkook, a kid he could never see again, that he wouldn’t die on purpose.

Hoseok was so much brighter than Yoongi ever had been. He could always tell a good story. Drag people away from their own sadness and make them glad again.

He never gave up. When Jimin had no one else, he went to Hoseok, and Hoseok didn’t fail him. Hoseok stepped in and saved Taehyung from his abusive father. When Yoongi wasn’t there for Jungkook, Hoseok was. Dr. Lee told him that Hoseok had begged for the chance to give Jungkook his life back. To try the surgery, to pay the bills, to care for Jungkook even if he ended up paralyzed for the rest of his life.

Something must have gone down in the dance studio that night. Yoongi knew it. Hoseok said that Jae just told him she was leaving for New York. But that didn’t seem like the truth to Yoongi. There was something more, something Hoseok was protecting himself from. 

He’d taken Jae to the hospital and had been so concerned for her that he hadn’t even realized he’d broken his ankle.

Said he’d do it again.

For a girl who, it seemed, did not return his affection.

And there was the other thing Dr. Lee had told him.

There was no proof, of course. All the evidence was circumstantial. Very circumstantial.

And very possible, when Yoongi looked back on things.

God. So many secrets they held. Made his deal with the devil feel a little inconsequential, when life was so confusing and secretive and dangerous on its own.

A fate so cruel and unfair that a kid like Hoseok felt there was no way out except swallowing a handful a pills. Pills no doctor with working eyes and a brain would have prescribed him, Dr. Lee claimed.

Hoseok looked far better now than he had this morning. His face had a more natural color, and as Yoongi reached out to touch his hand, it felt cool, but not clammy. The heart monitor beeped steadily.

Yoongi’s phone buzzed.

JUNGKOOK: _We’re almost done here. Should be home within the hour._

YOONGI: _Take Jimin to dinner. There’s this place called The River where Jandi works twice a week. I’m sure she’ll get you a free meal, and I’ll cover whatever she doesn’t._

He sent Jungkook the address.

JUNGKOOK: _That’s like forever away._

YOONGI: _It’s free food._

JUNGKOOK: _Okay. Anything going on?_

YOONGI: _I’ll explain tonight._

He’d explain tonight. God. He’d made sure Jimin and Jungkook had cleared out before he’d seen what was wrong with Hoseok, because he’d been terribly afraid it was too late. 

And now, he was going to have to tell them.

But he wouldn’t be home for several hours.

And before then…

“Hoseok?” he leaned forward and gently shook Hoseok’s shoulder.

Hoseok opened his eyes.

“Sorry to wake you up. But we have to talk.”

“I know,” Hoseok said, his voice dry and scratchy.

##

“How you feeling?” Yoongi asked. What a stupid question.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Hoseok said.

“Jungkook might disagree,” Yoongi said.

Tears sprang into Hoseok’s eyes. God. _Why_. He shouldn’t be so emotional.

“It was a joke, sorry,” Yoongi said, “Not the greatest time for it.”

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked. The sooner he could find out, the sooner he could make Yoongi leave.

“Because you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. I overdosed. And if Jimin hadn’t begged you to come make breakfast I’d be dead.”

“You seem to forget I’ve done the same thing,” Yoongi said.

“So you know you should have just let me die.”

“And Jimin should have drowned himself in the hospital,” Yoongi responded.

Hoseok squinted his eyes shut. Why was all of this so hard? Why did it hurt so much?

“It’s not the same,” Hoseok finally muttered.

“How is it not the same?”

“Jimin’s a good kid.”

“And you aren’t?”

No. Hoseok wasn’t good. The vision he always had, of him dying alone in an alleyway, bugs crawling out his eyes… that’s what was coming for him. His life was nothing. He was the worst sort of person. How weak did you have to be, if you couldn’t get through the night without sleeping pills? If you couldn’t handle the smallest pain without numbing it?

“You have no idea,” Hoseok said. “It’s better for Jimin if I’m dead.”

“You really think that?”

Hoseok nodded. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears from running down his cheeks.

“So, it was totally okay for me to check out of Jungkook’s life while he was in the hospital?”

“No,” Hoseok said, “That really sucked, he was so sad”—

“It would have been better if I killed myself for real?”

“But you’re not me,” Hoseok said, “You aren’t. You’re not a…”

He didn’t want Yoongi to know. He didn’t want anyone to know. It hadn’t been a problem, when he could dance. And now that he couldn’t dance, the choice was either end it all or listen to the dark voice in his head.

“Say it,” Yoongi said.

He couldn’t.

“Jimin still needs you,” Yoongi said, “So does Jungkook. And Tae and me and Namjoon and Seokjin.”

“They don’t know.”

“Tell me what they don’t know.”

Yoongi emphasized the word they. Excluding himself. Meaning he… he knew.

“Why are you here, if you know?”

“It’s like I said earlier. You’re sick, and you’re gonna get better.”

“But I’ve lost it. My control. My dance. And I can’t fight anymore. I can’t. Everything’s spiraling and all I can do is just…”

_“I can get you out right now,”_ said the Voice in his head. _“You won’t have to tell anyone. Just a little deal, and you’ll be free.”_

Tempting.

Very tempting.

But he didn’t want the devil.

“It used to be just sometimes,” Hoseok confessed, “The drugs. I don’t know how I got them. Just pills. That people threw out. Or didn’t notice they’d left on the counter. Or were totally visible in their backpacks or purses. Just little things. Leftovers, really.”

Yoongi was still there. He didn’t look like he hated Hoseok, and even more importantly, he didn’t look like he pitied him, either.

And Hoseok spilled it all. How it started before he’d met any of them. How he’d controlled it, and between dance and friends and work, was able to keep it hidden. How sleeping pills were a halfway point. An easy excuse, if anyone asked. How he’d nearly confessed to Seokjin once, but had chickened out.

“And now,” he said, “I’ll never dance again. I can’t afford anything. Jimin’s fired and is too sick to really work. Jungkook’s just a kid. It’s all falling apart and I can’t dance and I’ve got all these pills and I know I can keep getting them, because no one will stop me, and I’m just trash, really, like, how weak do you have to be? Drug addicts are losers. They don’t deserve friends, or happiness, or life.”

He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown. Yoongi was still looking at him.

“That should be enough,” Hoseok said.

Yoongi snorted. “So, let me get this straight. You figured that instead of letting everyone know that you have a drug problem, you’d just take them all and die?”

“I… I guess so.”

“You really think we’d suddenly abandon you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think it would really be better if you were dead?”

Hoseok couldn’t say anything to this, so he just nodded unsteadily. He couldn’t see anything through the tears. He knew Yoongi had a point, and he really didn’t want to die. He’d kind of regretted it, just after he’d swallowed the pills. It’s why he hadn’t taken all of them. Just held on to a little hope, that maybe…

But it was too late for him.

The mattress squeaked and shifted, and he was pulled up off the pillows. For a moment, he hoped that Yoongi would hurt him. Hit him. Yell at him. Shove him off the bed and tell him that he was a fricking idiot and that he should die.

“You fricking idiot,” Yoongi said, but he did none of the other things. His arms wrapped around Hoseok and pulled him against his chest. He hugged him, and didn’t seem to mind the fact that Hoseok was still crying and was getting snot all over Yoongi’s shirt.

“I won’t lie to you,” Yoongi said, “It’s not going to be easy. But we’re never going to give up on you. You got it? Never.”

“But… but… I…”

“You’re Jung Hoseok, and you’re one of us, and we all love you, even if you’ve messed up.”

“But…”

“Just shut up and let me hold you for a second, okay? You scared me this morning.”

“I’m sorry, I’m…”

“I said shut up.”

Hoseok shut up.

He’d never been hugged by Yoongi before. Yoongi never seemed very huggable. But right now, he could feel that Yoongi didn’t hate him. That everything Yoongi said was true. That things would be okay again.

After a while, Hoseok whispered, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you promise me something?”

“Maybe.”

“Please don’t tell Jimin.”

##

Yoongi succeeded.

He didn’t agree, but he succeeded.

Jimin believed him.

Believed that Hoseok was in the hospital for some fancy physical therapy for his ankle. Something new and experimental a friend of Dr. Lee’s wanted to try. That Hoseok said Jimin shouldn’t come to see him, because Jimin needed to really work on getting a job.

“I’ve got three prospects,” Jimin said, “And a lead that the ice cream shop just down the street is hiring.”

“I got an offer from McDonalds,” Jungkook said, carefully avoiding Yoongi’s eye. “Closing Friday evening and opening on Saturday. Not a lot, but it’s something.”

Jimin went to bed.

Yoongi laid down on the cot and closed his eyes.

Counted.

Three… two… one…

Jungkook quietly came out of the bathroom, tiptoed towards the front door, and opened it. The door lock beeped, and Jungkook shushed it as he stepped outside.

Yoongi gave him enough time to get to the roof, and then followed him.

“Hey, kid,” Yoongi said, joining Jungkook for the second night in a row.

“Hoseok’s not getting special therapy,” Jungkook said, “At least, not for his broken ankle.”

“You’re smart.”

“What did he do to himself this morning?”

“You’re too smart.”

Jungkook looked at him. “Yeah. I am. I could see you were trying to get me and Jimin out of the house, but I wasn’t really worried until you wouldn’t let us come back, and instead sent us to some out-of-the way restaurant for some of the most mediocre food I’ve ever eaten, and he’s not home. So just tell me, okay?”

Yoongi took a deep breath. “He decided that life was too hard and that he wasn’t worthy of it, so he took a bunch of pills and hoped he’d die.”

Jungkook glanced at his shoes. “Why? Why does everyone think that dying and leaving everyone behind is the answer? Like, frick. First Jimin thinks about drowning himself, and then you, and now Hoseok? I don’t know. I just…” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair. “Is it because of me?”

“No,” Yoongi said, “It’s no one’s fault. It’s just how fate comes together, I think.”

“Thank god you were there to save him. The money’s stressing him out, isn’t it? I really hope Jimin gets that ice cream job, and I never thought I’d be so happy to get on at McDonald’s of all places.”

“I’m going to help out, too,” Yoongi said.

“You’re moving in with us?” Jungkook said, a smile lighting up his face.

“Just for a little bit,” Yoongi said, “Until finances are more stable.”

“I’m so glad,” Jungkook said.

“Even though I’m a jerk friend who abandoned you when you needed me most?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. You just seem… more like yourself now, you know? More than you did for a long time.”

“I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Because you’re my brother and I had to believe you’d come back.”

Yoongi stood up and walked away, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t deserve to be Jungkook’s brother. He didn’t deserve to come back. Hoseok was a much better friend to Jungkook than Yoongi had ever been. And…

He was doing the same thing Hoseok was, wasn’t he?

Past actions didn’t end everything.

He was back.

He would keep on being back.

He’d never leave again.

He finished his cigarette and turned back to Jungkook. He didn’t say anything, but their eyes met, and Jungkook smiled at him.

“I’m still a little angry,” Jungkook said, “I think I’ll always be a little angry. But I’m so glad I didn’t give up on you. And that you came back for me, even if it took a long time.”

“And after a month of living with me,” Yoongi said, “I’m sure you’ll be begging for me to leave.”

Jungkook smirked and reached out his hand, and Yoongi took it and pulled him to his feet. A hint of pain flashed over Jungkook’s face, but Yoongi said nothing.

Halfway back to the stairwell, Jungkook gasped and stumbled. His knees hit the roof, and he curled on his side, breath hissing sharply through his teeth.

“What the hell?” Yoongi said, dropping next to him.

It was twenty seconds before Jungkook could answer him. Yoongi pulled out his phone and was about to call 911 when Jungkook grabbed his wrist.

“I’m… fine…” he gasped. “Just give me… a second…”

“What the hell?” Yoongi said, again.

“Can you help me downstairs?” Jungkook asked.

“If you tell me what’s wrong,” Yoongi said.

“My surgeon said that this was normal.” Jungkook was still collapsed in on himself, his grip cutting off circulation to Yoongi’s hand. “Something about the nerves disagreeing with the muscles on how they’d been repaired… I don’t know. Mikyeong explained it to me, but I can’t remember now.”

Yoongi helped him up, and Jungkook leaned heavily against him. His breath was still fast, and his jaw clenched as they slowly descended two flights of stairs to their floor.

Once inside, they went directly to the couch, and with Yoongi’s help, Jungkook slowly lowered himself onto it, laying on his stomach. “There’s an ice pack in the freezer,” he said, “Think you could go get it?”

There were, in fact, four ice packs in the freezer. Yoongi couldn’t remember Jungkook using them before when he was here, but he hadn’t always been here.

“Does this happen often?” Yoongi asked.

“Once a week or so,” Jungkook said, “If you could just set it on my lower back, right about here, and then get me another pillow, I’ll be okay.”

When Jungkook was settled, Yoongi sat on the camping cot and looked at him. Sure, he was better now. He could walk. But this injury wouldn’t ever leave him. It was hurting him, even now. Sweat stood out on his forehead and his eyes squinted shut.

“That can’t be all I can do,” Yoongi said.

“Afraid it is,” Jungkook replied. “Except turning off the lights and going to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said.

“Tired of hearing it,” Jungkook said. “I’m one of the lucky ones. Should be dead, but I’m not yet.”

Yoongi turned off the lights. Climbed under his blanket on the cot. Listened as Jungkook continued to stay awake, his breathing heavy and uneven, waiting for the pain to stop.

Jungkook’s accident was not Yoongi’s fault. This pain Jungkook was feeling was not Yoongi’s fault. He believed it, now. He had to. But then…

Sure, it might have been chance that Jungkook accidentally stepped out in front of a car.

But the car had a driver.

Someone who no doubt knew that they hit a kid that night.

Who kept driving.

Who didn’t look back.

Who didn’t care that Jungkook might have been dying or dead.

Who just left him there, hurt and alone. Bloody and broken on the pavement. 

Yoongi kind of hoped he never figured out who had hurt his friend so badly. Because if he did, he wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for what he did to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Looking ahead at my schedule, I should be posting Spring Day: Chapter 6 on Saturday, January 9th, 2021. I can't believe it's finally 2021. I hope you all had a lovely New Year's :)


	36. Spring Day: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you forgot, it was mentioned in the final chapter of Part 3 that Seokjin found a journal that belongs to a girl who works at a cafe. In the journal, he found her bucket list, and (without telling her he found the journal) he's been taking her on dates according to that list. He feels like, just maybe, he's finally escaped the time loop, and everything will be okay.

Seokjin walked down the halls of the animal shelter. Dogs barked from their cages, looking out at him hopefully. Drooling, messy, obnoxious animals just waiting to run into his apartment and pee on the floor.

Why was he here again?

“Here we have Benji. He’s half Maltese, half Poodle, and is two years old. Housebroken and super friendly, though he’s a little shy around young children.”

“Hmm,” Seokjin said, glancing at the mutt. It had a cute face, but that curly hair would have to be cut by a groomer, “Do you have anything with less hair?”

“What is your apartment’s maximum dog size, again?” the employee asked.

“Twenty pounds.”

“Then let me show you Cuddles.” She stepped down a few more cages. “Here. Chihuahua mixed with pug. Six years old.”

Seokjin looked at the dog. It had snaggle teeth sticking up from its lower lip, and one ear flopped while the other stood straight. Short hair, sure, but it looked lazy. Which wasn’t a bad thing, since Tae was at school most of the day, but…

“What else do you have?” he asked.

“These are our top choices from the questionnaire you filled out.” She had an uncertainty in her tone.

“There’s another one, isn’t there?”

“Smart, aren’t you?” she said, giggling, “Yes. There’s one more. But I don’t think you’ll like him. He’s been here three months, and no one gives him a second glance.”

She took Seokjin out of the dog hall and across the lobby to the cat hall.

“I don’t want a cat,” Seokjin said.

“Oh, I’m not showing you a cat,” she said, “But he didn’t do well when we put him with the dogs. The cats just ignore him.”

“Is he aggressive?” Seokjin asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Then why can’t he be with the other dogs?”

“It’s really strange,” she said, “Once you’ve seen him, I’ll explain.”

Seokjin used to like cats, but now, he saw the Devil in their eyes, no matter how innocent they were. He was relieved when they reached the end of the hall.

“Here he is,” the employee said.

The dog was thin with scraggly white hair. Seokjin couldn’t pick out the breed, only that it was no frilly Chihuahua or Maltese. Its ears pricked, not quite standing straight, and they were the only part of the dog that wasn’t snow white, and instead, were a reddish tan.

It was the eyes that were really different.

They weren’t brown, like you’d expect dog eyes to be. Not blue, either, like was sometimes seen with certain color patterns. They were a fierce yellow, and for a moment when Seokjin met the dog’s gaze, he felt the dog was staring into his soul.

But then he remembered he didn’t have a soul, and the eyes were normal again. Just an unusual color. Nothing more.

“Why hasn’t anyone adopted him?” Seokjin asked.

“Let’s take him to the Meet and Greet room.”

She opened the cage and lifted the dog out. His legs were long and gangly, but the girl carried him with no difficulty, so he couldn’t have weighed much. He was still a pup, but Seokjin doubted he’d outgrow the twenty-pound limit.

Once inside the room, Seokjin followed the girl’s lead and sat on the floor. Seokjin held out a hand, and the dog walked confidently over and sniffed him. Seokjin stroked the dogs ears, and the dog seemed happy. He climbed up into Seokjin’s lap and let Seokjin pet him all over.

“He seems like a fine dog,” Seokjin said, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing, really,” said the girl, “He’s just… odd. When we first let him out into the run to play with some of our more social pups, none of them approached him. And then, when he was in the kennels, they all went strangely silent. Wouldn’t act cute or friendly or anything. Just sat quietly in their beds, even when we tried to get them to play.”

The dog looked up at Seokjin and let its tongue hang out of its mouth.

“That’s not the only thing,” said the girl, a hint of mystery in her voice, “The man who brought him in was very concerned for his health. Said he’d found him while hiking, and that the dog needed a vet right away. Claimed that his ears were bleeding.”

“What?”

“Yes. Said he must have been hurt really badly, and that his ear fur was all coated in blood.”

“But he wasn’t hurt,” Seokjin said.

“No. And, like, look at his ears? A little reddish, right?”

Seokjin ran his hands over the dog’s ears. “They’re mostly brown,” he said.

“Exactly. My boss thought the guy was probably high on something. But then, there was the weird reaction the other dogs had, like I told you earlier.”

“So you put him in with the cats?”

“Yes. They don’t care about him at all.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Three months. He’s still a pup, it seems. We’re guessing he was four months old when he came in.”

“Any behavior problems at all?”

“None, except that the other dogs act weird around him.”

“So why hasn’t he been adopted yet?” The dog had begun gently gnawing on Seokjin’s thumb.

“Not sure. I think his eyes scare people. I don’t know. I was afraid he’d never be adopted, but then you came.”

“I haven’t said I’m adopting him,” Seokjin said.

She looked at him like she knew he was lying.

“Okay, he’s my top candidate.”

“You are the only person who’s seen this dog and hasn’t shivered and decided they didn’t want a pet after all.”

The dog rolled over and slid off of Seokjin’s lap. It looked up at him, the dumb expression on its face not matching the cunning yellow of its eyes.

He knew Tae would love this dog. It wasn’t tiny, but probably wouldn’t outgrow twenty pounds. Perfect for running around the city with him, and cuddly enough to sit with him while he did homework. Huggable enough to maybe comfort him whenever he was anxious.

By the time he walked out of the shelter, with the complimentary leash, collar, and tags (the white dog’s name was Yeontan, ironically), and three hundred dollars less in his bank account, he was pretty sure the whole story was a scam. How easy would it be, to select the dog that most fit your potential pet parent’s criteria, hide them away in the cat hall, and then give them a ghost story to make the dog even more appealing?

There was nothing special about Yeontan. His strange body shape was likely due to a cross between a sighthound and a terrier, as his paperwork said. His ears were the simple reddish brown one saw on most Jack Russels. His eyes, well. The breed crossing was unusual, so who knew where the yellow eyes had come from. But they were really more of a dark hazel, not nearly so creepy in the light of day.

Now to figure out the best way to surprise Tae when he came home from school this evening.

##

Taehyung slouched home from the bus stop. His jaw was clenched so tight he was getting a headache, but he didn’t care. Let the headache come. It fit with every other wretched thing that had happened to him today.

First, he failed a test that he should have passed easily. The teacher had used his failed equation as an example in front of the entire class. And, on top of that, she praised Jungkook as being the only student to get one hundred percent, and even after missing the last few weeks of Junior year!

He shouldn’t be jealous of Jungkook.

Really was cool, how he’d bounced back in school so quickly.

But then—

He waited in the ice cream shop for nearly three hours. Only when it was obvious she wasn’t coming, he called her.

“Little bro, what’s up?”

“Seoyeon, where are you?”

“Just got off work, and the girls and I are going out for drinks.”

“Okay,” Taehyung said.

“Why’d you call?”

“No reason. Just, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. And it’s Sept”—

“Let’s set something up, okay? I’ll text you.”

He heard one of her friends scream something in an excited tone, and his sister hung up on him.

They always, always came to this ice cream shop that sold his favorite kind of mint chocolate chip. The kind that wasn’t green, and tasted extra creamy and delicious.

He punched in the door code, but the lock malfunctioned. On his next try, he messed up. He swore and kicked the door, and finally, just as his third try at the passcode was accepted, Seokjin opened the door.

Taehyung stormed past him.

“Happy birthday,” Seokjin said.

“What’s for dinner?” Taehyung asked. He glanced at the table, and was surprised at how disappointed he felt at the lack of a present. Seokjin housed and fed him, and Taehyung felt he’d been eating a lot as of late. School made him hungry. He didn’t need anything else from Seokjin.

“I thought we’d order take out from that place you like?”

“Whatever,” Taehyung said, and pulled out his phone.

He could hardly focus on the screen.

What was Seoyeon doing?

Going out for drinks with her friends?

Sure, that’s what normal adults did, but Kim siblings weren’t normal. Alcohol had destroyed their father, and he’d nearly killed them. How could she just go out, all casual, and get drunk with her friends?

On his birthday?

Which they’d always spent together?

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his fingertips clawing at his forehead. The headache was in full swing now. Who needed dinner. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and forget that he was now eighteen years old. 

He swore to himself as he remembered failing the math test. He needed to study, too. No time to just sleep and forget about everything.

“I got you something,” Seokjin said.

“Hmm,” Taehyung replied. He didn’t feel like getting any presents. All he felt like was going to ice cream with his sister, and hearing about how her life was, now that they were both free.

“Are you going to look?” Seokjin asked.

“No,” Taehyung said, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Then I guess I’ll just let him out.”

Let him out?

Something bumped against his knee. Taehyung opened his eyes.

A little white dog stood in front of him, tail wagging so hard it was almost falling over. Its ears were tucked back, and it was looking up at him expectantly.

“What the hell is it?” Taehyung said.

“A puppy,” Seokjin said, turning quickly back to his desk.

“What possessed you to get a puppy?” Taehyung asked. The thing’s long tongue was lolling out of its mouth, and suddenly it flopped to the ground and rolled over on its back.

“His name’s Yeontan,” Seokjin said, and Taehyung scoffed. That was the dumbest name ever to give a dog that was nearly all white. “And I thought you might want to have a pet.”

“I don’t,” Taehyung said. The last thing he needed was a dog to worry about.

Seokjin shrugged, still not looking at him. “The shelter’s closed for the evening, but I can return him tomorrow.”

“Good,” Taehyung said.

“Could you take him out tonight, though? I don’t want him to pee on the carpet.”

“You take him out,” Taehyung snarked.

“He’s yours until we take him back,” Seokjin said, “If he pees, there’s cleaner under the sink.”

Taehyung sighed. “Did he come with a leash?”

“It’s on the counter.”

“Come on, dog,” Taehyung said. The thing nearly tripped him as he walked to the counter.

“Dinner will be here when you get back,” Seokjin said.

##

“Literally, how dumb can Seokjin be?” Taehyung said.

The dog glanced up at him with big, hazel eyes. He could tell it understood very little.

“I mean. You’d probably like him. You probably understand what it’s like to be undeniably stupid.”

Taehyung kicked a rock off the sidewalk, and Yeontan (what a stupid name for any dog, much less a snow-white one) lunged after it. The leash went tight.

“Stop it, you’re choking yourself.” Taehyung pulled the dog back to the sidewalk. “It’s a rock. Not a toy. Seokjin was probably too dumb to remember to get you any toys. I’m surprised he remembered a leash.”

The dog trotted down the sidewalk as if nothing was wrong.

“And, like, he’s the only one who remembered it was my birthday and he got me a dog. A used dog, at that. You’re probably going to destroy the apartment tonight. Or maybe you bite. No one gets rid of a perfectly healthy, perfectly sane, perfectly stupid dog.”

A car sped by, and Taehyung tightened his grip on the leash.

“Namjoon called me this morning,” he said, “We’re going out for lunch this weekend, so that’ll be fun. And Jungkook remembered. But I kinda hate him right now.”

Guilt bit at him. “Okay. I don’t hate Jungkook. I can’t. Like, I never would have thought he’d be back in school this fall. I’m so glad he is. And I really like him. But the little punk was so happy with the teacher praising him, after she’d just trash talked me! And I studied. Like, a whole hour last night. I suck at math, but I thought I was getting this concept, but aha, nope, I’m still the same old stupid Taehyung.”

Taehyung told the dog about his sister, and about how much he loved ice cream, and, well, at least the dog was listening to him, instead of hanging up on him. The sun had fully set by the time they got back to the apartment complex.

Halfway up the steps, the dog yipped and rushed ahead. Taehyung held him back, and as they came up the next flight, he saw what had caused the excitement.

A blonde girl—the blonde girl, the one he’d seen last spring—sat on the stairs, and she reached forward to pet the puppy.

Taehyung saw the dog and for a moment, he thought it would pounce on the girl and eat her.

He also though its ears were dipped in blood and its eyes glowing yellow, but that had to be a figment of his imagination.

The dog did pounce, but it just licked Mia’s face.

“You’re back,” Taehyung said.

“Have been for weeks,” Mia responded. She grabbed the dog and hugged it.

“You still friends with those kids? And what was your boyfriend’s name—Kai, right?”

“Not my boyfriend,” she said, “But yes. They aren’t dead, so we’re still best friends.”

There was uncertainty there, but he strangely didn’t feel like pressing it. She, also, strangely seemed to want to hold onto his dog.

No. Not his dog. The dog. The dog that would be going back to the shelter in the morning.

“Where’d you get him?”

“Seokjin found him at the shelter, I guess.”

“He’s just the right sort of dog for you,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Keep him close, okay?” She looked up. She wasn’t wearing glasses now, and it was a little off-putting. They had been such a distinguishing feature of her face the last time he’d seen her. 

“Whatever,” Taehyung said. “Don’t stay out past dark. It’s not safe.”

“Whatever,” she said back to him. She made no effort to get off the stairs as he walked past her, dragging Yeontan behind him.

He thought about asking if she wanted the dog. No need to go to the shelter, no need for the dog to spend the night ruining Seokjin’s apartment. But he kind a wanted to…

No. He could not keep a dog. He was in school all day. This was just one night.

The takeout was sitting on the table.

“How’d the dog do?” Seokjin asked.

“Eh. Okay. He pulled a lot. He seems kinda dumb.”

“You want help with your math homework after dinner?”

Taehyung looked sharply at Seokjin.

“Jungkook told me,” Seokjin said.

“‘Course he did. Loser. Probably bragged about how he’s the teacher’s favorite, didn’t he? If he so much as”—

“Calm the hell down, okay? He didn’t want to tell me, but I wanted to know what was making you act like such a brat, so I asked him if anything happened at school.”

Taehyung sighed, and exhaustion fell on him again. He leaned his elbows on the table. Even his favorite noodle bowl didn’t seem appetizing. The dog put its front legs up on Tae’s lap, but he didn’t push it away.

“You don’t have to help me,” Tae muttered.

“Well, duh. I don’t do anything anyone tells me to. But I want to help you, and since it’s your birthday, will you let me?”

Taehyung looked up.

Seokjin sat at the other end of the table, blowing on a bite of noodles before he stuffed it in his mouth. He looked so much happier now, than he had. Happier than Tae had seen him since Seokjin had moved back to Korea.

No.

Not just that.

Since the timeline had restarted.

Since Tae was the reason it restarted, because—

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said.

“Eh. It’s cool. You’ve gone through plenty of my bad days.”

“I mean about killing you,” Taehyung said. He couldn’t look at Seokjin as he said it. He knew he hadn’t meant to. He couldn’t have meant to. It was the Voice in his head. The… the deal, or whatever, that he could hardly remember making. Something that had come over him, so he didn’t know what he was doing until Seokjin’s blood was running hot over his hands.

“Tae,” Seokjin said, “Look at me.”

The dog nuzzled against Taehyung, and he scooped it up onto his lap. It licked his chin, and he raised his eyes to meet Seokjin’s.

“That was just a dream,” Seokjin said. “Not real. You haven’t hurt me at all. You’ve saved me. Twice. Once from drowning, once from myself. Okay?”

Taehyung almost believed him.

##

Seokjin woke up to a crash from the kitchen, and Taehyung swearing. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of bed, throwing open the bedroom door.

“What happened?”

“Damn it, nothing,” Tae said, “Tripped on the dog leash and knocked a mug on the floor. I don’t think it’s broken, though.”

Seokjin blinked. The dog in question was sitting innocently next to Tae, one of its paws raised off the ground. Taehyung was dressed in his uniform, and it seemed that he was washing his cereal bowl.

The clock on the oven read 6:43.

“What are you doing up?”

“Thought I’d take Tan on a walk before school. So he doesn’t tear anything up while I’m gone. Also, you should really clean up that pile of trash in the corner. Tan might eat it, and if he eats string he’d probably have to have surgery or something. And I know you’re rich and everything, but I don’t want him to have to go to the vet, because”—

“So I shouldn’t take the dog back to the shelter today?”

“I mean, you own the house. Do whatever you want.” Tae stacked his bowl in the drying rack and then dragged the dog out the door with him.

Seokjin smiled, and he really felt it.

Had he done it?

Had he managed to escape from the loop?

There were so many pictures of Taehyung in his head.

First: In the world where Jungkook and Yoongi were long dead, and probably Jimin, too. Where Hoseok was likely paralyzed or dead, and Namjoon locked behind bars, his poverty trapping him for life. And then Taehyung. 

Taehyung, roughly pulled from the cop car. Blood spattered on his shirt. Glancing back over his shoulder at Seokjin, all the life in his eyes gone. Broken by what he’d done.

Second: In the world where he forgot. Where everyone was alive. Sure, Yoongi still didn’t want to be, but Seokjin figured they could fix him, with time. Only he nearly forgot Tae. Nearly. And when he rushed in to stop it—

Taehyung, such a look in his eyes that Seokjin shuddered to remember it. And even worse: when he realized what he’d done. When he became a kid again. As Seokjin choked up blood and tried to tell him it was okay, as Taehyung begged for Seokjin not to die.

Dying was terrible.

But at least he woke up.

He got another chance. Or a dozen. Things were so freaking blurry, he could hardly tell sometimes.

And finally, this world. Taehyung, stumbling to his apartment, sobbing his eyes out and remembering that he’d killed Seokjin. When the ocean took Seokjin’s breath, cold cutting off the agony, Taehyung had dragged him out. Stopped the glass from shattering.

For a few hours.

Then Jungkook.

Hit by a truck.

Seokjin was sure he’d die. Everything for nothing. Time to do-over. One more time. One more one more one more—

Jungkook lived.

Tae saved Seokjin from the darkness.

Tae made it to his eighteenth birthday.

Tae was still a mess of anxiety and anger, but maybe they were getting out. Moving past. Tae with a dog was a new experience. Never happened before. Outside of the past narrative, moving towards a new future.

Just like Seokjin was with Hyuna.

##

_Sunday Morning_

They sat outside, on her break, because the fall weather was so perfect. There was a little table she liked, so small it could barely hold their coffee mugs, with ivy carved up the sides of it. Not the most fantastical spot in the faerie-themed cafe, but it was his favorite, too.

“Seokjin. I… I need to tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

“I know.”

“Know what?”

“You have my diary, don’t you?”

“Ummm, well, I…” He could feel his face going red. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not…

She laughed. “It’s okay. I’m not going to have you arrested for stalking me or anything, even though my sister said I totally could.”

Seokjin sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. But once I opened it, I just…”

She giggled, and sat back, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “You really liked what I wrote?”

“Yes!” Seokjin said, “It was so… I don’t know, so sweet, and cheerful, and excited about life. It was so fun to read, and, well, there was nothing that seemed really private, at least, not for a girl’s diary. I swore to myself I’d stop if I ever read something like that, but there wasn’t any. It was just hopes and dreams and stories about this cafe.”

“It’s a wonderful cafe,” Hyuna said, “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. My dad brought me here when I was a kid.”

“Really? That’s so cool. I didn’t find it until I was looking for a job.”

“You really don’t hate me for reading your journal?”

She shook her head.

“Like,” Seokjin said, “If I found out some creepy guy had stolen my journal and used it to plan dates to take me on”—

“But they were the best dates!” she said, “All of them! I mean… wait. They were dates, for real?”

Seokjin nodded. Had there been any doubt?

“So you really like me?”

Seokjin nodded again. He’d thought it had been apparent.

“Even after you met me?”

“Of course,” Seokjin said.

She giggled again, and hid her eyes. “Oh, this is so embarrassing. I mean, I totally like you, but I thought you probably just wanted to be my friend.”

“I should be embarrassed,” Seokjin said, “I thought I was pretty romantic.”

“But you never kissed me or anything,” she said.

“You didn’t kiss me, either,” he said.

“No, because you’re too tall! And then I thought you just wanted an adventure buddy, and I was okay with that, because I just liked you so much.”

“I love being your adventure buddy,” he said, “And, well, I’m cool just being your adventure buddy, if that’s all you want, because, well, you’re a really cool girl, and I do really like being your friend, and”—

He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop.

—“See, I’ve never known a girl like you, and you’re so pretty and so fun and even more amazing than your journal made you seem, and”—

She leaned over the table and kissed him.

##

Everything was okay.

It was more than okay.

In half an hour, he was taking her to dinner. A “fancy, proper dinner, and we both have to dress cute,” she said.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how good he felt, now that there were no more secrets. None that mattered, anyways. The journal was all he’d truly been hiding from her, and she said now they’d have to make a new journal, together, with a new bucket list of things they wanted to do and adventures they wanted to have.

He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her, either.

Thank goodness Tae was out of the house. Seokjin still wasn’t sure what he thought about the blonde girl who lived downstairs, but today was the third day running when she’d asked if Tae would let her take Yeontan for a walk, only for Tae to say no, he wasn’t letting a kid walk his dog, and then finally giving in and deciding she could walk the dog if he could come with.

Every night, Taehyung slept with the little white dog curled up on his chest. The dog wasn’t terrible during the day. He’d just chill on his mat while Seokjin worked on his class assignments, and was perfectly happy to go in his kennel whenever Seokjin had to leave the house. He hadn’t peed on the floor yet or destroyed anything of value, though he had grabbed the end of the toilet paper this morning and dragged it all around the house.

As Seokjin tried on a fourth outfit, his elbow knocked into a vase. The water and flowers splashed all over his pants and shoes. He swore. He thought he probably didn’t like this American girl after all, because, according to Tae, she’d picked all these flowers the day before. Tae had flung them on the counter, and they’d have withered there, if Seokjin hadn’t stuffed them into a glass of water. No need to let good flowers go to waste.

Now, though, he was scooping the soggy plants (could they really be called flowers?) into the trash and sopping up the mess with paper towels. The doorbell rang. What the hell? He rushed over to open it, his socks squishing uncomfortably in shoes he was going to have to change.

“Hello?”

“Flowers for a Mr. Kim Seok”—

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Sign here, please.”

Seokjin signed and took the bouquet. He set it on the counter. Time was running short. She’d be here in a few minutes, and he wanted to meet her outside, because the apartment wasn’t particularly clean. She’d see it eventually, he was sure, but he wanted to clean up a little before that happened.

He changed his outfit entirely, and glanced in the mirror once more, avoiding the still-damp carpet. Yes. This would have to work. He wasn’t sure if he’d call himself cute, but… she just might.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“This the The Flower Shop, and we’re so sorry, we delivered the wrong flowers. There was a mistake with your name.”

“Oh, umm, that’s fine.”

“We’re sending over the right flowers immediately.”

“That’s okay, you really don’t have to”—

“No, we want to, Mr. Kim. Please. Your credit card will be refunded. We are so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Oh, thank you, I guess? Will I need to return the bouquet I already have?”

“No, please, keep it and enjoy. Once more, we apologize for the mix-up.”

Whatever. They could leave the flowers at the door. Taehyung would probably be home soon. It was full dark outside, and he had school tomorrow.

He jogged down the stairs and went towards the bus stop. He’d offered to come pick her up, but she said she’d meet him here, and then they could drive to the surprise restaurant she’d chosen. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he glanced up at the clouds. He hoped it wouldn’t rain.

When he looked down, there she was. Across the street.

“Hyuna!”

She met his eye and smiled at him.

She stepped off the curb without looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Giving Taehyung a puppy is one of the best decisions I think I've ever made in writing this story?? I hope you think it's fun, too.
> 
> -We got lots of Seokjin in this chapter. The most Seokjin we've gotten so far, I think.
> 
> -I work next weekend so update will probably be Sunday?? But if I have time sooner, I'll post sooner. Oh: and it's the last chapter of Part 5! After that, we'll return to where we left TXT at the conclusion of Part 4. Which means I should get to another round of edits on Part 6... the writing never stops...


	37. Spring Day: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day late, so sorry, but here it is! Worked thirteen hours yesterday and I was so tired I couldn't think by the time I got home :P Love my job, though. Anyways: Enjoy! Or not. Not a very happy chapter. But as I've said before: the sad things that happen aren't all my fault. (Almost) everything has its basis in something from the BU/+U canon, whether it be the mvs, concept photos, The Notes, whatever.
> 
> Also, lemme throw trigger warnings all over this chapter, for both violence and suicide.

When Seokjin got home, Taehyung was asleep on the couch. As he should be. It was three in the morning.

Was this really his house?

Everything was unfamiliar.

The carpet seemed the wrong color. The living room too small.

He took a shower.

Changed into clean pajamas.

As he walked his bloodstained clothes out to the dumpster, he noticed there was still blood under his finger nails.

He spent the next hour scrubbing them clean.

_The flower delivery truck._

Just a mistake. Seokjin being rushed. Accidentally accepting the order for Kim Seokju, not Kim Seokjin. The extreme customer service of the company itself, rushing to right the situation, apologizing profusely. A new employee, afraid he’d miss his next deliveries if he didn’t get Seokjin his proper order and then be fired, when he had a wife and two kids at home.

Hyuna, stepping off the curb at just the right time.

He should have known he would have to pay for his sins.

##

Namjoon never expected that she would approach him.

It was on the bus.

Just they always were.

“Excuse me, sir?” she said, taking the seat across the aisle from him. “Can I ask you something?"

He felt his face go hot. “Yeah.” 

“I don’t mean to sound like a stalker, but I noticed you get off at my same stop every evening.”

“Oh,” Namjoon said, unable to find anything else intelligible to say.

“I accidentally fell asleep last week, and the bus took me all the way to Gangnam, and, well. It was not ideal.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon said, guilt weighing on him as he remembered her stupidity.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” she said, looking down shyly, “But if you notice me asleep as we get to our stop, would you maybe, I don’t know, shake my shoulder a little? Wake me up?”

“Sure,” Namjoon said.

A small smile flitted over her lips. “Thank you,” she said, bowing slightly. She turned away from him and pulled out one of her textbooks.

Namjoon stared out the window, cursing himself for his dumb one-word answers. Finally, she’d started the conversation, and he’d answered in monosyllables.

They reached their stop, and she didn’t look at him as she swung her backpack onto her shoulders and stepped towards the front of the bus. He sighed a little. Would she ever talk to him again? Or would he be stuck always gazing from afar?

And then he smiled.

Her never-different ponytail was secured with the ribbon he’d given her.

##

Taehyung walked the dog and then left for school. 

Seokjin hadn’t slept. 

He didn’t think he’d sleep again.

Once the house was empty, he wandered out. Opened his laptop. Started typing an assignment, but the words weren’t right.

He stopped.

Laid on the couch until the sun was high in the sky. 

The dog did not approach him. 

When he stood up and walked around behind the couch, the dog shrank away from him.

The pile of garbage was still on the floor. Taehyung had picked up all the sharp objects and balanced them on the windowsill behind the curtains. Seokjin threw the curtains open, halfway hoping that…

He checked his phone.

End of September.

Not April 11th.

He took the pins and reconstructed the photos, the notes, the articles. The polaroids. The screencaps from videos he’d taken, that somehow lasted over. Somehow showed up again on in the memory of his camcorder.

His camcorder, now at the bottom of the ocean.

He should have it in his hands right now.

It should be April 11th again.

Why hadn’t the glass shattered?

He stared at the spiderweb of strings and clues.

Taehyung would be home from school soon.

He knew why time hadn’t restarted.

##

Would things get better?

The hospital had been hell on earth. Hoseok hadn’t thought he’d need to stay there. Before his accident, whenever he spent a day or two taking pills he shouldn't, he could push through and be okay again. Dance an extra hour. Get through.

But this time...

After weeks of getting high on pain meds whenever he wasn’t working...

He still wanted them. Even though his body was through the withdrawal, his mind wanted the numbness. The empty.

Jungkook came home before Jimin. They both had jobs, but it was a Sunday, and Jungkook didn’t work Sundays. He was holding a giant box in front of him, and he dropped it as soon as he was inside. He was sweating, his eyebrows drawn together in pain, as he limped toward the couch.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Hoseok said. “What’s in the box?”

“Yoongi’s stuff,” Jungkook said, “I’m moving him over.”

“All on your own?”

“He keeps making excuses, and I’m done with it.”

Hoseok nudged the box with his foot. It wasn’t super heavy, but Jungkook looked beat.

“Want ice?”

Jungkook nodded.

This, Hoseok could do. 

He got the ice pack from the freezer. He helped Jungkook take off his uniform blazer. Jungkook gestured for Hoseok to sit next to him. He laid his head on Hoseok’s lap, sliding the ice behind his back.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on being a human pillow this afternoon, but since he had nothing else to do, he stayed. It hurt, though. Just looking at the pain on Jungkook’s face.

“Does it hurt that bad?”

“Eh. Not so bad as it did during recovery.”

Jimin had told Hoseok what it was like during recovery.

“You’d think they could give you a prescription or something,” Hoseok said.

“They would, but I live with you, so.”

Hoseok tensed.

Jungkook opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“You know,” Hoseok said.

"Yup."

“Does everyone know?”

“Just me and Yoongi. And he didn’t tell me. I’m just smart now. I think almost dying does that to you.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?”

Hoseok swallowed. “Because I’m the reason you’re hurting so bad right now.”

“Ehh. It takes a lot more than that for me to hate someone.”

God. Why had Yoongi saved Hoseok, again? Why’d they forced him through a week of detox and suicide watch, when he was such an inherent screw-up that he wanted to swallow some pills right now, just so he could forget how Jungkook’s face looked as he fought through the pain?

“Look at me,” Jungkook said.

“Disrespectful punk,” Hoseok said, hoping it hid the emotion he was really feeling.

“You’re pretty great,” he said.

“Yoongi told you everything about last week?”

“Everything,” Jungkook said, “And if you’d have died, well, I don’t want to think about it. But thank God you didn’t. And if that means that I have to go through a bit of a sore back every so often, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t just a sore back,” Hoseok said.

“I’m walking because of you,” Jungkook said, “And I’ll be grateful forever.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re not convinced.”

Hoseok couldn’t reply.

“Well, maybe it is your fault I can’t get narcotics,” Jungkook said, “But you’re probably saving me from my own drug dependence. Or accidental overdose. Or something equally tragic.”

That didn’t make Hoseok feel any better. He wanted to run away, but Jungkook’s head was still on his lap. Also, Hoseok’s foot was in a boot. He didn’t need crutches all the time now, but running remained impossible. 

“You don’t have anywhere to be, right?” Jungkook asked. Hoseok glanced down at him. The kid had a mischievous look in his eye.

“I wish I did,” Hoseok said.

“Then tell me a story.”

“No.”

“Come on. Mikyeong used to tell me stories.”

“How would Mikyeong feel, if she knew you were using her memory to get what you wanted?”

“Did you meet her? It’s exactly the sort of thing she’d want me to do,” he said, and there was a sadness in his eyes, even though Hoseok knew he was trying to keep it light.

“Okay, okay. You win. So, a couple months ago, there was this woman, who came into the restaurant with four screaming kids. And they marched up to the counter like…”

##

Seokjin drove to his father’s house.

His father would not be there.

He was in Japan.

The maid wouldn’t be in today.

The security system was impossible to breach, unless you knew how it was built.

Seokjin knew.

He paused for a moment in front of his mother’s portrait. He knew, just as the first time when he’d stolen from his father, that he couldn’t do it here. Not in a place where she had lived. She wouldn’t have liked it, to see what his life had become.

On his way down the stairs, his phone rang.

He answered it.

“Seokjin, what the hell are you doing, breaking into your own house?”

“I don’t live here anymore,” Seokjin told his father.

“You still have the passcode. You don’t need to bypass the system entirely.”

He knew that. So why’d he done it? Just to prove, one more time, that he was his mother’s son?

“I thought I got through to you last time,” Seokjin’s father said, “I don’t know what happened, but drinking won’t fix it.”

Seokjin kept the phone to his ear, but didn’t reply.

“There will be repercussions, if I find you’ve stolen any booze.”

“I won’t be,” Seokjin said, and hung up.

He did not take any soju or champagne or whiskey.

He didn’t even go behind the bar.

He punched the proper code into the safe.

##

“So, you just want me to move into your room?” Jandi said, a sly grin on her face.

“Yes. No. You know what I meant,” Yoongi said.

“Hmm. I’m not sure. You’re kind of the worst.”

“I know.”

“Confession is not enough to win my favor.”

“I don’t want your favor,” Yoongi said, polishing a shot glass.

“So this is some sort of apology?”

“I heard you telling Yeji that you were looking for a new place. You’ve seen my place. It’s not huge, but it’s clean. Conveniently located. The landlady is out almost every weekend. Doesn’t mind music, even at unearthly hours.”

Jandi shrugged, leaning on the bar. “You’re right. I do need a place, so I’ll take it. Nothing to do with you. Who I still don’t like.”

“I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“For what? Making sure Mr. Kim would save you from a corrupt criminal justice system biased against starving artists such as ourselves?”

“For covering shifts for me, while I’ve dealt with… everything.”

“That was completely selfish. I get paid when I take your hours.”

Yoongi glared at her. She raised an eyebrow and glared right back.

“Maybe I won’t recommend you to my landlady.”

“Maybe I don’t want to live in house infested with cats and pianos.”

“Do whatever the hell you want, doesn’t make a fricking difference to me.”

“I always do whatever the hell I want,” she said, “Now, get me a scotch and soda.”

“You can’t drink on the clock.”

“You didn’t give me your hours tonight.”

Yoongi glared at her again. She didn’t break her stare.

“Eh, Yoongi! They’re not paying you to flirt,” called one of the cooks from the kitchen.

He poured her drink. She winked at him. “Good boy,” she said, “Paychecks are sweeter when you work hard for them.”

She was right. He needed his paychecks more than ever. So he resisted the urge to flip her off, or cuss her out, or tell her that he wanted nothing more than to go back to how they’d been: playing music together. Talking about things no one else was interested it. Enjoying her presence at his every lunch break.

Maybe someday…

If he wasn’t afraid of his curse hurting Jungkook, he didn’t have to be scared of hurting Jandi, either.

##

She’d died before the ambulance got there.

After Seokjin reached her.

He remembered the truck driver, calling 911 as he jumped out of the driver’s seat. Dropping his phone as he saw her. Turning away and retching.

Seokjin didn’t turn away.

This was what he deserved.

What _he deserved._

Not her.

She didn’t deserve to die, broken and bloody, in the middle of the road.

He felt the moment her heart stopped.

Almost a relief.

He waited for the glass to shatter.

Waited until the sirens came.

Until the EMTs dragged him away from her body.

The police arrived, because they needed to file a report.

The glass never shattered.

Because…

She wasn’t one of them.

She wasn’t part of the deal.

She was an innocent outsider that he’d dragged into their circle of hell.

He’d messed up.

Again.

In an attempt to escape, he’d just…

Ruined things further.

He needed to fix it.

There was only one way to fix the loop.

His father had taught him how to use a gun. How to clean it, load it, shoot straight and hit what he was aiming it.

Not that this would be a hard shot.

Point blank.

He had to hurry.

The sun was nearly down. Taehyung might come home.

There was a strange sort of irony in it. He’d spent so much time trying to get the perfect timeline. The perfect situation. The perfect actions, so his brothers wouldn’t kill themselves, on purpose or accidentally. He remembered clearly: Yoongi dying in the ER. Hoseok falling down the hospital stairs. Jimin, jumping from his moving car and falling into the construction site. Taehyung, leaping from the pier, hitting the water hard and not coming up again.

And Jungkook…

He shuddered.

He’d worked so hard to save them.

He thought he had.

He thought he was outside of it.

And maybe...

Maybe he was.

Maybe, he’d blow his brains out and the glass wouldn’t shatter.

##

“I thought you had friends,” Taehyung said, as they followed the dog through a clump of abandoned lots. Once, apartment complexes had stood there. They’d been mostly knocked down, in preparation for new apartments to be built, but nothing new ever had.

“I do have friends,” Mia replied.

“Then how come you’re hanging out with me?”

“None of my friends are also my neighbors,” she said.

“So I’m your friend now, too?”

“Nope.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tan is. He’s the one I always ask to come play with me. But you’re an overprotective helicopter parent”—

“Am not!”

“I bet if you ever have kids, you’ll use those little kid harnesses to make sure they don’t run away.”

“I will not put my kids on leashes!”

Mia laughed, a full, obnoxious, really loud laugh that had her almost bent double. Tan pricked his ears and trotted over to her.

“You’re hilarious,” Mia said.

“Ha, ha, I know,” Taehyung said.

“Doing things that are a little illegal is so much fun,” Mia said.

“I know, right? Like, Seokjin used to always say I was stupid for my art, but, like, graffiti is so freaking cool. I can make an artistic statement on the back of a building and the worst the cops are gonna do is put me in jail overnight. Again.”

“You’ve spent the night in jail?” Mia asked.

Taehyung shrugged. “When they caught me.”

“That’s so… so… so _badass_.”

“Hey, watch your language, kid.”

Tan leapt over a crack in the ground that seemed to go down forever, but probably just led to an old basement. Taehyung followed him, and Mia came after.

“You’re still the one holding Tan’s leash.”

“Because I’m the responsible adult and you’re just a punk kid.”

They came out on the other side of the block, and Tan froze, his ears pricked forward.

“Hey, boy, what’s up?” Tae asked, as the leash went taught.

Tan yipped, and turned back the way they’d came.

“You see something?” Mia whispered.

The dog pulled harder at the leash.

“Come on,” Taehyung said, pulling the leash, but Tan wouldn’t budge. He reached and grabbed the dog, but Tan wriggled in his arms. “Stupid mutt, we’re not going that way, come on”—

The dog wriggled free and ran off, his leash dragging behind him.

Taehyung swore.

“Watch your language!” Mia shrieked, and she took off after the dog like her life depended on it.

“Tan! Stop!” Tae shouted, but the dog kept running, and they followed it.

They both followed after Tan, and though Taehyung’s legs started burning, he was able to keep up. It felt they were repeating their path they’d taken earlier. Tan was too far ahead to lunge for the leash, but close enough that he stayed well within sight.

The apartment building came into view.

Tan was going back home.

But why so desperately?

He ran up the stairs. Mia and Taehyung stumbled up after him.

“Dang it,” Mia said, “I thought he was… taking us… somewhere cool.”

“This is a… decent complex,” Tae gasped, “I think… it’s pretty cool.”

“I mean, for a second, I thought he was a legit”—he didn’t know what she said here, but it sounded like _Koon Ah-nun_ , —“leading us on the great hunt, splitting dimensions straight through the Midworld into hell itself”—

Tae stopped listening to her. Something was terribly wrong. Yeontan was freaking out at the door, lunging for the handle.

He punched in the code and the lock malfunctioned.

“Damn it!” he shouted, trying again.

##

Maybe, the glass wouldn’t shatter, and he’d be dead for real.

Dead, without a soul.

If that was the case, Tae would find his body, and he felt bad about that.

But…

_Dying._

Ending all this.

That wouldn’t be so bad.

Footsteps coming up the stairs.

The yapping of a dog.

He heard the door lock beep.

Now or never.

##

Mia screamed at the sound of the gunshot.

Taehyung threw open the door.

##

The glass _shattered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that cliffhanger. And, unfortunately, you'll have to wait a bit for the resolution, because next weekend, we're going back to the TXT boys with Part 6: _Run Away._
> 
> Also, thought I'd name-drop my tumblr again: @forforever42. I post behind-the-scenes stuff sometimes, and vague hints about the future of this story without any spoilers. And, of course, gifsets of our boys :P
> 
> Hope you all have a lovely week.


	38. Run Away: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, back to TXT!
> 
> Previously: The boys wake up from a strange experience in a dreamlike forest of nightmares to discover they've been in a metro crash. Both Yeonjun and Kai were badly injured. Read the last chapter of Part 4 if you want to refresh on all the details.
> 
>  _Note on Timing_ : Though the BTS and TXT storylines will eventually be on the same timeline, Part 6 begins at around the point Part 3 (Just One Day) ends. So, roughly the beginning of August, Year 22.

Part Six  
Run Away

_It was good, good, good,  
And now it’s gone, gone, gone,  
And there’s a little boy who’s lost out in the woods  
Always looking for the fawn._

- _The Ballad of Jody Baxter_ , Andrew Peterson

Chapter 1

Taehyun was trapped.

Death was near.

Twelve hours in this hospital bed, and they finally let him have his phone.

“Will you call your parents, sweetie?” they asked.

“I did,” Taehyun said, “They won’t pick up.”

“Can we have their number?”

Taehyun gave them a number.

(Not his family’s).

Taehyun texted the group chat: _Is anyone out there?_

No response for an hour. Two.

He could hear the nurses outside his room.

“We can’t reach his parents.”

“The school must have his address on record.”

“He shows definite signs of malnutrition.”

“He’s probably safest staying here until things calm down.”

Finally, hours later, Beomgyu responded, but not in the group. _I’m finally home. Are you okay?_

Taehyun: _I need to get out of here._

Beomgyu: _It’s scary but you’ll be okay??_

Taehyun: _They can’t get a hold of my parents and they know I’m not eating enough. They’re going to put me in foster care or something like that and then when my eye turns black again they’re going to kill me._

Beomgyu: _Calm down. We’ll think of something. Can’t talk now._

Taehyun stared at his phone.

The doctor came back in. Shined a light in his eyes. A nurse took another vial of blood.

What if the blood told them he wasn’t human?

More muttering outside.

“His left pupil is dilated.”

“Concussion?”

“Probably.”

“And do you see how thin he is? His parents won’t be getting him back.”

“Being in this wreck might have just saved his life.”

No.

No.

They’d kill him.

Once they knew, they’d kill him.

He’d lied about his name, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before they discovered his real identity. And if the authorities found his real parents, they’d tell everything and then someone would kill him because he was a monster and monsters deserved to die.

Was Yeonjun dead?

Why wasn’t Soobin texting back?

Where was Beomgyu?

Taehyun, to Beomgyu: _I have to get out of here. They know. They’re going to kill me._

Beomgyu: _Calm down okay. We can think this through._

Taehyun: _My eye’s changing back._

Beomgyu: _We’re just getting home from a news interview. Umm. Let me think._

Taehyun waited fifteen minutes. A nurse brought him a bowl of soup. As much as he felt like eating it, he pretended not to. Maybe if he convinced them he had an eating disorder, and wasn’t being neglected, they wouldn’t get the authorities involved just yet.

Finally, his phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: _If you can make it down to the lobby, I can get you out._

Taehyun: _Really?_

Beomgyu: _Yeah. Leaving my house in five minutes._

Taehyun: _Isn’t it dangerous?_

Beomgyu: _I don’t fricking care. I don’t know if anyone else is alive. Not even Soobin’s answering his phone. I’m not losing you, too._

Taehyun shuddered.

Beomgyu: _Think you can get down to the lobby?_

Taehyun: _Probably._

Beomgyu: _I’ll text you when I’m ten minutes out. Is that enough time?_

Taehyun: _I think so. But you might have to wait a little, if the nurses are hanging around._

Beomgyu sent a thumbs-up emoji. _Just hold on okay??_

##

Beomgyu packed his backpack to the brim. Not just food. He also had a blanket and painkillers and an insulated bottle full of ice. Thank goodness Taehyun’s phone hadn’t broken in the crash. Beomgyu was assuming that’s what had happened to Soobin’s phone, since every call went straight to voicemail.

Beomgyu was nearly to the door when he heard his father’s voice.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Beomgyu cringed and he was yanked back. His father tore the backpack off his back, dumping the contents all over the floor. “Just out of the hospital and you’re running off again? Do you know how scared you had us?”

Beomgyu knew they weren’t scared that he could have died.

They were scared that he’d tell the doctors that the bruises on his ribs hadn’t come from the accident. Or they were afraid that after the stress of witnessing the carnage, that he’d break completely. That there would be know way to save the image of their son.

“Get to your room,” his father said, “And stay there.”

Beomgyu shrunk his shoulders and crept towards the staircase.

God.

He was pathetic.

Completely useless.

Better if the metro wreck had killed him, for all the good he could do.

He heard his mother.

“The Daily Show wants to do a piece on us!” she said, excitedly, “To see how we feel about the public transportation safety issue, since it nearly took our son!”

Something snapped in Beomgyu.

He straightened his shoulders, and turned back towards the door.

He didn’t pick up his backpack.

“I told you to go to your room,” his father said, storming back in his direction. Grabbing him by his shirt collar. Throwing him against the wall.

“Careful, darling!” his mother said.

“I won’t go to my room,” Beomgyu said, “I’m leaving. I’m going to get my friend and I’m going to bring him here and you’re going to have dinner made for us.”

His father simply stared at him.

“And if you interfere in my life any more,” Beomgyu continued, “I will tell everyone what you’ve done to me.”

“They won’t believe you,” his father growled.

“Maybe not. But is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

He stared his father in the eye. He trembled a little, but he held the gaze. 

Taehyun needed him. 

Taehyun had no one else.

If his father killed Beomgyu right now, well. At least he tried.

“One night,” his mother said.

“What?” Beomgyu asked.

“Your friend can stay here one night.”

“And I will be allowed to go see him,” Beomgyu said.

“No,” his father said.

“Yes,” his mother responded, “You can. As long as you’re more careful, and you never stay out past dark. But if we do this, you must be very good, all right? In all the interviews?”

Beomgyu nodded. It was getting a little hard to breathe.

“Dear, do you really think”—

“Yes,” his mother snapped.

His father dropped him.

His knees didn’t hold him and he collapsed on the hardwood. Every bone in his body ached.

His parents walked away, arguing, too quiet for him to hear.

He found it surprisingly hard to sit up.

To breathe.

It was probably a terrible idea to bring Taehyun here.

But…

He had power.

Just a little.

And he was going to use it.

##

Taehyun held his breath as he ducked into a broom closet.

Everything hurt, but his arm most of all. He knew you weren’t supposed to yank out your own IV like they did in movies. But what choice did he have?

He thought he knew where he was.

The chaos from yesterday’s accident was still evident in the hallways.

It had been to his advantage, actually, once he’d gotten out of his hall. There were a handful of kids, up and about, bored out of their brains and just wandering.

He wondered where Kai was.

If Soobin was okay.

If Yeonjun was dead.

His hands felt hot and sticky, and he forced the memory from his head.

He had to get out of here, or he’d be dead, too.

(No. Yeonjun couldn’t be dead. He was still alive when the ambulance took him and Kai away.)

He waited until there was silence outside, and he crept out again.

God, his arm hurt.

“Excuse me?” a sharp voice asked, “What are you doing here?”

Taehyun panicked.

He ran blindly through the halls, despite the fact he could still see. They were after him. They’d catch him and see his eye and they’d kill him.

Would he fight them?

Or would he die begging for his life?

It sounded like they were all around him.

There was no escape. He was in a quiet hallway, with nothing but doors.

He took a gamble and burst into the room at the end of the hall.

Damn.

There was a girl on the bed. She looked really sick.

“You’re escaping?” she asked.

He didn’t know how to respond.

“Under the bed, quick!” she hissed.

He did as she said.

The door opened. He held his breath.

“Mikyeong, did you hear anyone run by?”

“No, ma’am,” the girl said. “It’s been quiet. But, hey, stop by Jungkook’s room and let him know I want to see him?”

There was a touch of annoyance in the nurse’s voice as she responded, “When I have the chance, I will.”

She left.

Taehyun stayed under the bed, barely daring to breathe.

“They won’t hurt you,” the girl said, “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“You don’t know,” Taehyun said.

“Where are you trying to go?”

“Ground floor. There’s… there’s a back lobby, I guess, and…”

“Don’t tell me any more details,” she said, “I don’t want to be incriminated if they catch you. But if you go down three halls, and take a right, you’ll find a staircase that’s hardly used. Go into the fourth door, up the flight of stairs in the back, and you’ll eventually find a service elevator that will take you down. There’s a map on the wall at the bottom, and the door you’re looking for is in the upper right-hand corner. Does that help?”

“Yes,” Taehyun said, “Is it really safe?”

“As safe as life,” the girl said.

He crawled out from under the bed and met her gaze for a brief second.

He knew his eye was returning for two reasons.

First, because she gasped. “Oh, that’s so cool! I’ve never seen someone with different colored eyes before.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said.

“I won’t. As long as you don’t get caught and snitch on me, you were never here.”

The second reason he knew his Sight was returning was because of the girl herself.

He looked at her, and he knew she was dying.

##

Beomgyu waited.

He didn’t want to text Taehyun, in case he was hiding somewhere.

But it was driving him nuts.

It was busy enough in this corner to avoid much notice.

He thought he looked enough like an adult to pass as Taehyun’s older brother, here to pick him up.

But it was twenty minutes past when they were supposed to meet.

What if something happened?

What if he’d been caught?

What if his eye changed?

Beomgyu shuddered.

He heard something.

“What are you doing?”

“Just… looking for the bathroom… sorry…”

“Are you sure you should be down here?”

Beomgyu followed the sound.

Rounded the corner.

Taehyun was backed against the wall, gazing at the floor. A nurse was standing in front of him, hands on her hips. “I think you’re not supposed to be here, sweetie. Let’s get you back to”—

“Taehyunnie!” Beomgyu called. He forced every bit of acting he’d ever learned into his tones. Pretend to be grown up. Pretend to be in charge.

“Little brother, you get lost again?” Beomgyu said, throwing an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders. The kid was shaking like a leaf. “Sorry if he bothered you, ma’am. I was just finishing getting him checked out.”

The nurse looked deep into Beomgyu’s eyes. He gave her a smile. “Thanks for looking out for my little brother,” he said, “But I’ll take him from here.”

She sighed. “It’s such a mess around here,” she said, “Be glad you have a brother to watch out for you, sweetie. Stay safe out there, boys.”

She turned and rushed away to the next chaos she had to attend to.

“Here,” Beomgyu said, shrugging off one of the jackets he was wearing and giving it to Taehyun. Taehyun got his arms in it, but was shaking too bad to zip it up. 

“It’s changing, Beomgyu,” he whispered, “They nearly caught me. They nearly caught me.”

“Good thing I caught you first,” Beomgyu said, zipping the jacket up to Taehyun’s chin and pulling the hood over his head. “Darn, I forgot sunglasses. They were in my backpack. You’ll just have to look down, okay?”

“How dark is it?”

“Just a little greyish. Shouldn’t freak anyone out too bad. Come on.”

They slipped out of the hospital and into the afternoon.

##

Taehyun had forgotten what it was like to take a shower.

Sure, he showered. But the truck stop wasn’t the same as an actual shower in an actual house. There was a weird echo in the truck stop, and despite the fact it was rarely used, no real privacy. And no warm water.

He probably had it turned up too hot, but the scalding water on his skin felt so good. So did using shampoo instead of cheap soap. Body wash that was scented. The steam that made everything warm and comfortable, instead of shivering and trying to finish as soon as he could.

The door creaked open, and Taehyun started.

“Everything okay in there?” Beomgyu asked.

“Yup,” Taehyun said.

“Dinner should be here in ten minutes. Umm. I think I found some clothes that will fit you. But if you don’t like them, I’ve got a whole closet you can look through after we eat.”

Taehyun thought anything that wasn’t the hospital clothes would be fine.

If he wasn’t so hungry, he was pretty sure he would have stayed in the shower forever. But he was hungry, and without having to wear his sunglasses in case someone walked in unannounced, he could see as well as feel how apparent his ribs were. The hospital staff were right to be concerned for him. If he were human, there would be every reason to take him from his parents and give him to someone who would watch out for him.

They just didn’t know that he wasn’t human.

##

Not everything had gone as Beomgyu planned.

Sure, they’d made it home. His parents had not been here.

Dinner hadn’t been ready when they got there.

Once it was, Taehyun ate without hardly taking the time to breathe and spent the next half hour throwing up.

God. Why hadn’t he thought it through? Taehyun had even told him he hadn’t eaten anything in the hospital. The chicken alfredo the cook had made for dinner was not something you should give a kid who hadn’t eaten anything proper in a week, and nothing at all for at least twenty-four hours. The richness of the sauce made Beomgyu feel a little ill, even on the best of days.

Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

God. He was so stupid.

At last, Taehyun came out.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu said.

“Don’t be,” Taehyun said.

“I’ll make sure there’s something better for breakfast. And I got you some crackers and ginger ale.”

Taehyun stood and awkwardly looked around the room.

“It’s what I always eat when my stomach’s upset,” Beomgyu said, “And maybe I’ll go make us some sandwiches after my parents are in bed. Anyways, you’re probably tired.”

“So this is where you live?” Taehyun asked, quietly.

“Yeah,” Beomgyu said, a little color creeping into his cheeks.

This was where he lived.

This giant room with a walk-in closet full of designer clothes his mother bought him and he rarely wore. A fancy MacBook on his sleek and expensive-looking desk. Bluetooth speakers hanging in the corner of his room and a fifty-inch television on one wall.

“My room was a little like this, before,” Taehyun said, still very quiet. He glanced at the crackers and bottle on the stand next to the bed. “Umm. Could you open the soda for me?”

Beomgyu did as asked. Taehyun’s hands were shaking. Hadn’t stopped since they got back. Wearing Beomgyu’s hoodie, he looked even smaller than usual. His left eye was a stormy grey.

Beomgyu didn’t want to hover over him as he ate, so he walked back and sat down at his desk.

His phone buzzed at the same time as Taehyun’s. They both grabbed them out and looked at the screens. It wasn’t their usual group chat, but an unknown number in a new group.

The new number, to both of them: _Sorry guys I lost my phone in the accident. It’s Soobin. This is my mom’s phone._

Beomgyu: _Are you okay?_

Soobin: _I’m fine. I’m at home with my mom._

Taehyun: _Thank god._

Soobin: _So you’re both fine?_

Beomgyu: _Yeah, I’ve got Taehyun at my house. We’re both okay._

Taehyun: _Is Yeonjun dead?_

Beomgyu shuddered. The images flooded his mind again. Of Yeonjun bleeding. The bodies around the crashed train. The woman’s arm bone torn through her skin…

His phone buzzed.

Soobin: _No. But he’s not good._

Taehyun: _Did his internal organs get injured_

Beomgyu felt a little like he was floating.

Soobin: _No. But it was infected before they even got to the hospital. Last I heard they’re fighting it but are afraid its gone septic._

Taehyun: _That’s really bad._

The room was spinning.

Breathe. Breathe.

He closed his eyes.

Heard someone call his name, like through a cloud.

Someone shaking his shoulders.

He forced his eyes open.

Taehyun was staring down at him, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay? Come on. Come on, say something.”

“I’m… okay,” Beomgyu muttered, “I just… think… talking about infections and stuff…”

“Then we’ll stop. Okay? There’s nothing we can do anyways.” Taehyun pulled his phone out and sent a quick text. “He says Kai’s going to be okay.”

Beomgyu knew there were more details, but he didn’t ask.

“You should get in bed,” Taehyun said. “Do you want some of my soda? Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe I should have a drink,” Beomgyu said.

Taehyun vanished for a second, and by the time Beomgyu had pushed himself up, he was back with the ginger ale. He had just a small sip, because Taehyun should still have most of it. The world became clearer with every moment.

“Did you hit your head? Hurt anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” Beomgyu said. “Nothing hurts any more than it did before. But I think I’ll probably go lie down. For a little bit, at least.”

Taehyun nodded. He took Beomgyu’s hand to help him up. He nearly fell over in the process, but Beomgyu got to his feet, and the two of them walked over to the bed. Beomgyu laid down in the middle and stared at the ceiling. Taehyun sat on one side and ate some crackers.

“Don’t eat them too fast,” Beomgyu said. “Don’t want to get sick again.”

Taehyun didn’t say anything, but he crunched a little more slowly. He passed the soda to Beomgyu, and Beomgyu took one more drink. He let his eyes slowly close.

After a bit, Taehyun went quiet. When the silence went on a few minutes, Beomgyu opened his eyes and glanced towards his friend.

Taehyun was standing and looking out the window.

“What's wrong?” Beomgyu asked.

“I really thought you jumped,” Taehyun said.

“Taehyun, I”—

“No. I did. You had your camera off and you were saying such scary things and when the phone hit the floor I was sure you were dead.”

Beomgyu shivered.

So much had happened that he’d almost forgotten it.

They hadn’t spoken about it in person.

He remembered, before they’d sneaked away from their class. How Taehyun had hugged him.

“I’m not dead,” Beomgyu said.

“You promise?”

“Tae, I’m right here.”

“I can feel his blood on my hands,” he said, his voice thick, “I tried. I tried so hard. But what if he dies?”

“Taehyun, don’t”—

“And what if you jump next time? What if you don’t pick up the phone or I’m sleeping and don’t hear you and you just jump and die there all bloody on the pavement? And then I’m alone? What am I supposed to do? God, his blood was so hot, I didn’t know blood was that hot, I”—

“Taehyun, stop!” Beomgyu shouted.

Taehyun stopped. He stared blankly out the window.

“I just don’t want anyone to die,” he whispered.

“Come here,” Beomgyu said.

Taehyun came. Crawled up on the bed. Let Beomgyu pull him into a hug. Taehyun buried his face his Beomgyu’s shirt, his shoulders shaking as tears soaked through to Beomgyu’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu said, tears filling his own eyes, “I’m sorry. Sorry for running and running and leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.”

In the morning, they would talk more. He would tell Taehyun about the site of the wreck. About how the awful fear of dying took him. He’d ask Taehyun about the blood. About how he felt, trying to save their friend. Tell him how freaking brave he was. 

Beomgyu wouldn’t be scared anymore. If Yeonjun died…

If Yeonjun died, they’d have to talk about it, or it would kill them, too.

But that was tomorrow.

Tonight, they held each other. The terror of the past day and days and weeks faded away. The sound of their breathing, the beating of their hearts, the fact that they were still alive, that they were together—

That was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I really like this chapter. Taehyun and Beomgyu's friendship is one of my favorites to write (possibly my very favorite? who knows :P) 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) Part 6, Chapter 2 will be posted when I have a spare moment next weekend.


	39. Run Away: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, posting a day early this week!

Soobin shoved his hands in his pocket as he followed his mother into the hospital.

Five days had passed since the crash.

For a full twenty-four hours now, they’d known Yeonjun would live.

In fact, he’d get to come home on the weekend.

But that was too long to wait. He’d convinced his mother to bring him here. She hadn’t needed much convincing. Yeonjun’s mother had agreed to go out to coffee with her, as long as Soobin promised he’d stay by Yeonjun’s side the whole time.

“Poor woman,” his mother said, as they got into the elevator. “This was a great idea you had. It’ll be good for her to get away, to talk about it. God, it was scary enough for me, and I only thought you were dead for a few hours.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” Soobin said.

“Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad your friend is going to be okay.”

_Okay._

What did “okay” mean?

Sure, he wasn’t dead. Thank goodness he wasn’t dead. But there was still a target on him and any time this could happen again, it could happen again, and Soobin knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.

They checked in with the nurse at the entrance to the recovery wing. She gave them the room number. Soobin followed his mother.

His hands were all sweaty. It was hard to breathe. They were just a few doors down and…

“I think I’ll wait for a minute,” Soobin said, as they reached room 317. “Just until you and Mrs. Choi are ready to go.”

His mother hugged him. He felt better, for just a moment. There was something so good about his mother. She still loved him, even when hearing everything had made him act like a jerk. Even when he stayed out studying when she expected him to come home.

“You’ll be okay,” she said, releasing him, and he knew he would be. Just maybe not quite yet. 

She entered the hospital room, and emerged just moments later with Mrs. Choi. Yeonjun’s mother looked exhausted.

“You promise you’ll go right in?” Mrs. Choi asked Soobin. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s sleeping now,” she said, “But you promise you won’t leave until we get back? Even for a minute?”

“I promise,” Soobin said.

“Okay. I guess. I guess we can go.”

But she waited.

She waited until Soobin forced himself to open the door and walked into the room.

Yeonjun was there. Laying on his back, his head propped up with pillows. An IV in his arm. His mouth open slightly. His face pale, but not so pale as it had been when they’d taken him into the ambulance.

As he’d heard the paramedics say things he didn’t understand.

He noticed flowers adorning the table across from the bed. He examined them. The largest bouquet had a handwritten note attached to it:

_Get better soon Yeonjunie!  
Love,  
Kai_

There was a little drawing of a deer on it.

He doubted that Kai had delivered them personally.

Kai’s aunt and uncle had taken their nephew’s phone for the time being. He wasn’t supposed to look at screens while he recovered from his concussion. Soobin was planning on seeing him for the first time tomorrow. He’d get exactly fifteen minutes, Mrs. Cho had said. She wasn’t trying to be mean. It was just what the doctors had said. Kai’s brain needed time to heal.

Kai also didn’t know how badly Yeonjun had been hurt, at the orders of his aunt and uncle. 

There was a chair next to Yeonjun’s bed. Soobin sat down in it and stared at his sleeping friend. Yeonjun would probably call him a creep when he woke up, but he honestly didn’t care.

Yeonjun snored lightly, and his shoulders shifted on the pillows.

He was alive.

The dream wasn’t real. Not entirely.

It had been pretty damn close, but…

Yeonjun’s nose twitched, and then his eyes fluttered open. He squinted at Soobin for a second.

“You didn’t send me flowers,” he said.

“Good morning to you, too,” Soobin said.

“Kai’s aunt brought those yesterday,” he said, “So I think he wins the Best Friend Award.”

“If his aunt brought them,” Soobin said, “She should get the award.”

“Really, though,” Yeonjun said, “I’m glad you’re here. Mom was driving me nuts. You haven’t been here long, right? I told her to wake me up before you got here, I’ve been so bloody bored, I”—

“It’s been like three minutes,” Soobin said, “And I’m pretty sure my mom will keep yours talking for at least an hour.”

A smile fluttered across Yeonjun’s face. “Want to make a bet?”

“Not without Taehyun telling me the odds first.”

“Fair. How are they, anyways? They won’t give me my phone, the bloody dictators. I’m stuck either watching dramas or counting the ceiling tiles.”

Just yesterday morning, it had been the opinion of medical professionals that Yeonjun was dying. And now he was complaining about being bored?

“They’re okay,” Soobin said, “I mean, not great. But dealing with it as best they can. They aren’t physically hurt.”

“Too bad,” Yeonjun said, “I’m really the lucky one, you know? Kai’s wound won’t leave a mark, and I’m pretty sure that bruise on your forehead will fade by next week. But I’ll have this sick scar for the rest of my life, you know? It’s freaking awesome. Wanna see?”

Soobin did not want to see, but he couldn’t find his voice.

Yeonjun pushed down the blankets and lifted his shirt up.

Soobin didn’t feel anything at first. He simply looked. It didn’t seem real. Nothing from the day of the crash did, and to see this, solid evidence, right in front of him—

The mess of sutures started just under Yeonjun's ribs on his right side, and stretched all the across his middle until it scraped across his left hipbone. The stitches were either reddish and swollen looking or way too white, and Soobin felt that if Yeonjun even moved they’d tear open and the whole world would fall apart again.

“Pretty sweet, right?”

Soobin opened his mouth to say no.

A sob burst out instead. Tears blurred his eyes, and he pressed his hands against his mouth.

_God._

Yeonjun really had been dying in his arms.

How the hell had they saved him?

How the hell was he still breathing?

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, why’re you crying? Come on, it’s just a scar, I actually think it’s cool, if that wasn’t apparent”—

“Shut up,” Soobin said.

Yeonjun shut up for six seconds before continuing. “You don’t have to cry,” he said, “Kai’s okay, and unless I die of”—

“Don’t say that,” Soobin gasped.

“I was going to say ‘of boredom,’” Yeonjun said.

“You don’t get it,” Soobin said.

“I’m fine,” Yeonjun said.

“A liter and a half,” Soobin said.

“What?”

“That’s how much blood you lost.”

“Damn. Pretty badass”—  
“It _wasn’t_ ,” Soobin snapped, “It wasn’t. You were dying, Yeonjun. Okay? You remember how freaked out you were about Kai?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said quietly, “It was so scary, him just lying there all still and”—

“I could hear your heart slowing,” Soobin said, “You were fighting to breathe. And Taehyun was trying to stop the bleeding but he couldn’t. All I could do was just hold you and hope that maybe some twist of fate would let you stay.”

“But”—

“Your blood was _everywhere and_ you didn’t even notice,” Soobin said. “God, Yeonjun. I thought you were going to die in my arms. And then I thought you were going to die in the ambulance and then die in the hospital and then die because of that infection. And you should have. All four of those times, you should have died.”

Soobin tried to gather his composure. All he wanted to do was hug Yeonjun and not let go, but doing so would probably tear open his stitches and start the whole thing all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun said.

“It’s not your fault,” Soobin said, “You didn’t choose any of this.”

“But I did totally force you to look at my scar without thinking about how you felt about it,” he said.

“Do you really think it’s awesome?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Yeonjun said, “But I’m not sure if that’s because it really is awesome, or if…”

Yeonjun trailed off.

Soobin rubbed his eyes and saw Yeonjun, staring off into the distance.

“That Thing nearly tore my guts out,” he said, barely a whisper, his hand resting on his belly. “If I don’t find anything cool about it I think the horror of that thought will break my mind.”

“I promised I’d die before I let it hurt you.”

“You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?”

“No. I just. I should have seen it coming.”

“Liar, you are blaming yourself. Come on. None of us saw this coming.”

“But my dream…”

There was a knock on the door. Both boys froze.

“The nurses were supposed to stay out unless I called them,” Yeonjun whispered, “And I don’t need more meds until”—

The door creaked open and a man who was obviously a doctor stepped in.

“Who’re you?” Yeonjun said, his shoulders going stiff.

“I’m Dr Lee. It’s nice to meet you, Choi Yeonjun. And you must be Choi Soobin. The fates have given me their blessing today.”

Soobin rubbed his eyes and hoped it wasn’t too apparent he’d been crying.

“What’re you doing here?” Yeonjun said.

“Just coming to talk for a little.”

“Well, could you make it a different time? They finally let my best friend come see me and I was hoping it would be just us.”

“Unfortunately, my schedule won't allow for that. But I also wanted to talk to both of you.”

He pulled another chair away from the wall and sat on the other side of Yeonjun’s bed. He had a tablet and scrolled through the screen.

“Metro crash,” Dr. Lee said, “They still don’t know what caused it. It seems something may have been on the tracks, but they’re not sure what. Would have to have been something big, and it’s very interesting that no one knows what it was.”

“I guess,” Yeonjun said, rolling his eyes. “And the point is?”

“Broken bones, blood loss, concussions, crushed lungs, burns, torn limbs. That was the majority of the injuries, as is expected from a crash like that. That boy they found with you, Huening Kai? Concussion, whip lash, and a foreign object lodged in his eye. Fits with the norm.”

Yeonjun looked as sick as Soobin felt, thinking of Kai’s injuries.

“A decent handful got away with bruises and scrapes,” said Dr. Lee, looking at Soobin. “The lucky ones.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Yeonjun said, “You know I’m a minor, right? You’ve got to talk to my mom before you can do anything to me.”

“Just a few more questions,” Dr. Lee said. “I’m a trauma surgeon in the ER. When you came in, they sent you to me,” he said to Yeonjun. “Awful cut you had, there. No major arteries, but you still lost a lot of blood. I checked for internal damage, disinfected the wound, and stitched it up. 68 stitches. Blood transfusion immediately afterwards and you were no longer in my care. I didn’t have time to realize how strange your wound was until later.”

“We’re kids,” Soobin said, “I don’t think you should be…”

“You are kids, and as such, you should respect your elders.”

“Yes, sir,” Soobin said, but Yeonjun glared at the doctor.

“It was only later that I heard that you weren’t found with the rest of the victims. That five boys apparently had been flung hundreds of feet from where the crash was. Three with minor injuries, one with reasonable injuries, and then you.”

“It was a metro crash,” Yeonjun said, “I can’t be the only one with a deep cut and blood loss.”

Soobin’s mouth went dry.

“There are different kinds of cuts,” said Dr. Lee. “Most from glass or sharp metal edges. Most ragged, with tearing and bits of the material left behind in the wound.”

Nausea hit Soobin, but he choked it down.

“I guess I’m just special,” Yeonjun snarked.

“That you are,” Dr. Lee said, “In fact, if I hadn’t known you were in the crash, I would have assumed gang violence. Someone trying to disembowel you with a very sharp knife. Someone who came very close to succeeding.”

Stars blurred around Soobin as the memories came back.

The memories, but worse.

“Oh, god,” Soobin said, choking, “I can’t…”

He ran for the bathroom in the corner and barely made it to the toilet before his lunch came back up. He threw up more, heart pounding in his ears, his entire body shaking. Thinking of how awful it had been already, and how close it was to being so much worse.

He heard yelling.

“Shut the frick up! What are you doing? Just coming in here and saying all this bloody stuff? This can’t be legal.”

“Son, you need to calm”—

“I’ll bloody calm down when you bloody get out of here!”

“I can have them sedate you”—

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!”

Soobin forced himself up. Stumbled to the doorway of the bathroom. “I’m okay,” he said, “I’m sorry, I’m”—

Yeonjun was struggling against the doctor, trying to get out of his bed.

“Yeonjunie,” he said, “Please, you’ll hurt yourself more.” He took a few unsteady steps away from the wall.

Yeonjun fell back on the pillows, panting.

Dr. Lee sat back in his chair.

Soobin made it to his seat and did the same.

“The two of you are close?”

Yeonjun just glared at the doctor. Sweat was standing out on his forehead, and anger glowed in his eyes.

“I’m assuming the other three are also friends of yours.”

“Best friends,” Soobin said.

“Very interesting.”

“Get out,” Yeonjun snarled.

Dr. Lee nodded. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Get the frick out of my room,” Yeonjun said.

“You aren’t the first strange case I’ve seen.”

“I don’t bloody care.”

The doctor stood up. Tucked the tablet under his arm. “If you need anything, feel free to ask.”

Yeonjun flipped him off.

The doctor tilted his head and looked at Yeonjun for a moment more. Then he turned and left the room.

“Yeonjun, you shouldn’t have”—

“Me? He’s the one who shouldn’t have. We’re kids and we have rights. That was weird and unsettling and I don’t bloody care if he thinks he’s the one that saved my life. It was you and Taehyun and Beomgyu and the… the…”

“What?” Soobin asked.

Yeonjun’s eyes had gone distant, and his left hand crept up to his throat.

“Yeonjun, you’re freaking me out.” 

“I don’t want to,” Yeonjun whispered.

“What is it?” 

“I don’t want to scare you more.”

“I doubt you can.”

“I heard a voice,” Yeonjun said, “As… as we were coming back from the Island.”

Soobin leaned forward.

“Everything was falling apart around me, and I saw the _eyes_. The eyes that want me dead. They were coming for me, coming for me and I didn’t know how to escape them and then something, some voice in the darkness, it told me to drop.”

“What?”

“That Thing never wanted to cut my stomach open,” he said, “That was just a desperate last attempt. It was going for my throat. It’s always going for my throat. Drain my blood into the…”

Yeonjun’s voice cracked.

Soobin wished he could hug him, but settled for grabbing his hand.

“The wreck only really hurt Kai,” he said, “I mean, I got a bit of a concussion, too. But this cut wasn’t from the train.”

Soobin nodded.

“Do you think that doctor knows?” Yeonjun whispered, “Knows what we are?”

“I doubt it,” Soobin said.

“But if he does, he might”—

“No,” Soobin said, “He knows something is strange, but he can’t know the truth. No one knows. No one but us.”

“Are you sure? Because you told me that while monsters can’t hurt me, people can. People that might be looking to hurt me.”

Damn.

He had said that.

Not only that, the books had said that.

And his dream…

“So, the accident,” Soobin said, “I, well…”

“What?” Yeonjun asked.

“I dreamed it,” he said.

##

“Dreamed it?” Yeonjun said, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes. Dreamed it.”

“Like, you saw the future?”

“Not quite,” Soobin said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t see anything in the dream. I just felt things, and I wasn’t sure what they were. They got clearer as time when by, but I didn’t know what they were until… until…”

It hurt Yeonjun’s heart to see Soobin like this. To think that for four whole days, Soobin hadn’t known if Yeonjun would survive. He hadn’t realized, before, how much Soobin cared. He always seemed so distant, with his books and the indifferent persona he wore.

But he cared.

He had to care, if this had shaken him so badly.

“It’s why I was studying so hard,” Soobin continued, “So I could try and figure out what it meant. Maybe if I’d spent a couple more hours, I could have stopped it. Mia really helped. Maybe if I brought Taehyun in. He’s smart. God, I should have just told you all, and then maybe”—

“Shut up,” Yeonjun said, racking his brains for a way to make this better.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you hear yourself? Going on and on and blaming yourself and thinking that you could have stopped this.”

“Well, if I don’t stop it, who will?”

“We will,” Yeonjun said, “The five of us. Well, six of us, if you count Mia.”

“And we really should,” Soobin said, “I saw her, you know. In the Island. She came to me and reminded me what she’d told me earlier. Not that it did any good. So what if I knew something was out to kill you, if I was trapped and couldn’t move?”

“Do you think she’s the one who told me to drop?” Yeonjun asked.

“How, though? How could she help you from the other side of the world, and I’m left searching through the rubble for your body?”

That was an interesting way to phrase it. There had been no rubble, per se, at the site of the accident. Just bent rail tracks and dirt. It couldn’t have taken Soobin long to find him. But he didn’t bring that up now.

“I don't know,” Yeonjun said, “It might not have been her. But the voice was familiar, just not one I’d heard in a while. Have you talked to her?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she know about…”

“Yeah. She knows everything. I guess Beomgyu’s braver than me, because he was able to do tell her, while I just started crying every time I tried, I’m such a”— 

“Hush, and get up here,” Yeonjun said. The idea he had was a little risky, he knew. But it was almost as if he had a bit of Beomgyu’s so-called “instinct.” He felt, of anything, this was right.

“What?”

Yeonjun scooted over on the bed.

“God, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Nah, they even let me go to the bathroom by myself now. As long as I don’t try doing any sit-ups, I’m not going to hurt myself. Which, like, crushes my dreams of getting killer abs this summer, but hey. You can’t have it all.”

Soobin didn’t smile, but he didn’t look quite as sad as he had before.

“Now, come on. Get up here.”

“Why?”

“We’re fixing something. Come on. Just trust me.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow, but he slowly climbed onto the bed.

“You’re not going to break me,” Yeonjun said.

“Well, I”—

“Sit back.”

Soobin sat back against the pillows, and Yeonjun laid back against his chest.

“What are you doing?” Soobin asked.

“You seem to have a little trouble realizing I’m still alive,” Yeonjun said.

“No, I don’t, I’m just”—

“Shut up and listen,” Yeonjun said.

It hurt him to remember it. To remember the feeling of utter helplessness as blood leaked from his body. To know the terror Soobin was feeling, to hear the hidden panic in Taehyun’s words.

As they tried to save him and the darkness fell over his eyes.

“What am I listening to?” Soobin asked.

“My breathing,” Yeonjun said. “Does it sound okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And my heartbeat. Can you hear that, too?”

Soobin nodded, his chin brushing Yeonjun’s hair.

“There. See. The scary part’s over. I’m going to be okay, for now.”

“What about next time?” Soobin asked.

“We’ll be ready,” Yeonjun said, “All of us. They won’t catch us blind again.”

Soobin nodded again. He carefully wrapped his arms around Yeonjun, and Yeonjun felt tears falling into his hair.

“See. It was scary, but it’s not anymore. This is comfy, right?” Yeonjun said, “Think I could almost fall asleep like this.”

“You’re really alive,” Soobin muttered.

“Can’t kill the boy who should be Death that easy. Not when he’s got a friend like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Took me two whole chapters to conclude Part 4's cliffhanger, lol. Hope you enjoyed it. The plot will Move Forward again next chapter. 
> 
> I actually don't work next weekend, so I'll probably post Run Away: Chapter 3 on Saturday. Have a great week!


	40. Run Away: Chapter 3

“I can’t believe all this happened,” Mia said as soon as Kai picked up her call. 

Finally, his doctor had cleared him to use his phone. To see people for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. To watch TV. To do anything that wasn’t staring at the wall.

“I know, right?” Kai said, “It’s pretty crazy.”

“I woke up at midnight and I knew something was wrong. In the morning, when I saw the news, I knew it was you. I knew you’d been on that train.” Her voice was frantic.

“Calm down,” Kai said, “It’s okay.”

“But I’ve told everyone except you, and I need to tell you,” she said, “It scared me so bad! That I might get back to Korea and you wouldn’t be there anymore, well, that, it…”

“But I’m okay,” Kai said, “And no one else got badly hurt. Yeonjun was in for a few days for his concussion, but Soobin and Taehyun and Beomgyu got out really quick. We got off lucky, really.”

Mia sighed. “Oh, Kai. Do you know how sweet you are?”

Kai blushed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Three days,” Mia said, “Three days and we’ll be together again.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe all of you can come over together. My aunt is going to barbecue something really tasty.”

“Everyone’s going to be there?”

“Yeah.”

“Even Yeonjun?”

“Yup. He’s had enough rest for his concussion, too. Gosh, it was soooo boring, just staring at a wall for two weeks. Soobin came a couple times, but could only see me for a few minutes before my aunt made him leave so I could rest some more.”

Mia smiled, but there were tears in her eyes.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Kai asked, “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“No,” Mia said, “I’m just ready to see you again.”

Still not telling the truth.

“Does your eye hurt?” she asked.

“Ah, no,” he said, his hand brushing the patch that still covered it. “I mean, sometimes, a little. But it’s healing well and in a couple weeks I’ll be able to see out of it again, so that’s exciting. But I feel even more bad for Taehyun now.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“See! There! You’re not telling me everything.”

“Kai, I… it’s just a lot. I’m not lying to you.”

She was. She was lying, and if he was being honest, it was bothering him. Why would she leave something out? She usually said everything she thought, so these short answers that were obviously incomplete really bugged him.

“I have to go,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” Kai said.

“Have I ever told you how smart you are?”

“Mia, what’s…”

“I can’t wait to see you,” she said, and hung up.

Kai sighed and slid his phone off his bed. It hit the carpet below with a thunk. 

It wasn’t just Mia. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him. Soobin was the only one he’d seen in person, and that had been even worse. Like everyone was in on a terrible secret, and Kai was a little kid who didn’t get to know. And now Mia, too? Didn’t they understand that secrets were a bad thing?

Maybe when they were together, things would be better.

##

Control.

Taehyun had control.

He’d managed to hide his blindness from those who might question its cause, and only one of his friends knew he was living alone in a train yard. 

He was a master of concealment.

But when he stepped into Kai’s apartment and heard Yeonjun’s voice, he nearly lost it.

Thank goodness Kai spoke up next, and then Mia ran over and hugged him. “My goodness,” she said, “You’ve… hmm.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew that she could feel the angles of his bones through his jacket. He should have come up with a story before. Of course Mia would hug him, and of course she would know something was wrong, but thank goodness, she didn’t say anything.

It stopped him from running to Yeonjun, though. Thank goodness. All he’d been thinking about all day was running to Yeonjun, touching him, hugging him, feeling the life in him that had come so close to leaving. But if Yeonjun guessed what sort of situation Taehyun was in, everything would fall apart. 

School started next week, and when he combined what Beomgyu’s parents allowed Beomgyu to bring him (not much, but at least Beomgyu wasn’t getting hurt for it) and the money he’d earn from booking wagers again, he’d surely start to gain some weight. And some energy. And maybe he’d start thinking more clearly.

Soobin showed up next.

_(Soobin, covered in blood, as they took Kai and Yeonjun away in the ambulance. Soobin, sobbing on Taehyun’s shoulder. Both of them running to Beomgyu, as the police dragged him out of the metro tunnel, his eyes blank, his body trembling, refusing to speak.)_

_(Soobin, telling them it would be okay, as they were put in different vehicles to be taken to the hospital)_

_(Panic filling him anyways, fighting the hold of the EMTs, until one of them stuck something in his arm and clouds fell over everything.)_

Don’t. Cry.

And don’t hug Soobin. Not now. He looks okay. He’ll notice, this time. No one can notice.

Beomgyu skipped through the door next and didn’t give him a choice. He was so glad. The memories and fear were crushing, but with Beomgyu’s arms wrapped around him, he could forget them. Just lose himself in the warmth and comfort of another person. Or, well, monster. It didn’t matter what they were. They were alive and they cared.

(For now.)

(For now was all he could ever hope for.)

Beomgyu sounded far too happy as he greeted and hugged the others. Almost fake happy, like he was hiding something. He’d told Taehyun just yesterday that his parents hadn’t hurt him since the accident, and Taehyun desperately hoped that was still true.

Kai’s aunt brought the food to the table. Taehyun sat next to Beomgyu on one side. Kai and Mia were across from them. Soobin and Yeonjun sat at either end.

The charade began.

Kai did not know how close Yeonjun had been to dying. His aunt had called all of them and directly expressed that it must stay this way. Kai had woken after the accident raving about fire and dragons and nightmares, and she and his doctors were afraid that knowing the extent of Yeonjun’s injury would only further harm Kai’s fragile mental state.

_“And it doesn’t really matter if he knows, does it? You’re all okay now. You’re all alive. No need to scare him.”_

Taehyun thought it was a terrible idea, but he didn’t talk back. None of the others had, either. Kai’s aunt held the power to take him from them, if she so wished. Adults held all the power. To force you out of your childhood home, leaving you to scrounge for food in a train yard. To beat you if you didn’t behave as they wished, or if they were just in a bad mood and wanted to hit someone.

They talked. Light, frilly conversation. Not bad, necessarily. They’d often talked of manga plots and celebrities and school drama before. Kai’s aunt occasionally joined them, and even when she wasn’t talking, Taehyun could hear her bustling around in the kitchen. 

Mia talked the most. As he listened, he realized how much he’d missed her over the summer, and not just for the food she was able to buy him. Strange, how he hadn’t noticed the hole she’d left in their group, until she was back.

But her shield was faltering. Soobin noticed first, and Taehyun could hear him, shifting in his seat, clenching his jaw. He caught a hint of hysteria in Mia's next laugh, which stretched into the syllables afterwards. Beomgyu and Yeonjun caught on, as well, and the pressure of their secret fell heavy on the table.

Kai was the only one who said something because he was the only one who didn’t know.

“Is something wrong, Mia?”

There was a moment, before the storm broke. It crackled in the air, and Taehyun was glad, for once, that he couldn’t see.

“I can’t,” Mia said, her voice hollow.

Her chair scraped back. She scrambled to the door. It beeped as she opened it and slammed behind her.

##

“Mia, wait, where are you”—

Yeonjun stopped Kai. Kai could do nothing in this situation, because he was, unknowingly, the cause of it. The key word: _unknowingly_. That was the whole problem.

“I’ll go,” Yeonjun said, hoping the weight of his tone would convince Kai.

It did.

Would Kai still trust him after this?

It wasn’t his lie. Not really. They were just doing what Kai’s aunt asked them to.

Yeonjun stood, and Kai caught the twinge of pain that flashed across his face. Damn it. But how could he help it? Every time he moved, pain shot across his midsection.

He followed Mia.

She’d run down to the landing between Kai’s floor and the one below it. Her back was to him as she stared out the window, her forearms resting on the sill. Her hair, long and frizzy, covered her shoulder blades.

Yeonjun leaned against the wall and glanced at her face. She’d traded glasses for contacts sometime while she was in America. He hadn’t noticed, before, that her eyes were brown.

She didn’t look at him. She stared off at the horizon. He wasn’t sure if she noticed the tears making tracks down her cheeks.

He tried to stay quiet. To let her have the first word. They were both on the talkative side, and surely she’d have to break the silence eventually.

But she took too long and he couldn’t stand it. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Beomgyu told me,” she said, “Because Soobin couldn’t.”

“I’m not dead,” Yeonjun said, “I made it.”

She shrugged. “My eyes might not be magical, but thanks to modern science, I’m able to see.”

“So you can see we’ll be fine.”

“Not if we can’t be honest with Kai.”

“His aunt’s kinda right, though,” Yeonjun said, “With his problems it’s best that he doesn’t”—

“Wrong,” she said, quiet but firm.

“Excuse me?”

“Your lives are shrouded in mystery and lies that we are desperately trying to uncover. That we need to uncover. If we add to the deceit ourselves, we bring the devil that much closer, while staying as lost in the maze as we ever were.”

“But we made it through. We’re going to be okay now.”

“You’re going to be the reason for your own demise if you keep talking like that.”

“The hell do you know about anything?”

“Hell of a lot more than you, it seems.”

“You were in bloody America when all this happened.” Anger rose in Yeonjun. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Will you listen to an outside perspective?”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to go back up to the apartment. Talk about fun things that weren’t dangerous or deadly. Forget that Death had nearly had him. Pretend they were just normal kids, having lunch together the weekend before school started.

But he stayed, and she told him.

“The first time Death went after you," she began, "He didn’t find you. Kai managed to keep him off, but Death was very close. The second time, you weren’t in the other dimension on purpose. It was an accident, something a little too strange to be coincidence, and while you hovered in that between-space, Death came for you once more. And he almost succeeded.”

Yeonjun swallowed.

“In faerie tales—hey, don’t laugh. It’s not just faerie tales. In novels and stories and jokes and, seemingly, life, things come in threes. Looking at your progression of trials, if something doesn’t change before the next strike," she paused, and took a breath, "You’re going to die.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do that we aren’t already doing? Do you know how hard Soobin worked, all summer long, translating and studying? I’m learning how to defend us. Well, I was, and I will again as soon as I can move without hurting. Beomgyu convinced his parents that we’re okay friends to have so he can stay in school with us, and”—

“Do you want to be Death?” she asked, turning her gaze to him for the first time.

“Well, duh, doesn’t everyone?” he said, rolling his eyes, “You know. You ask a kid the question, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ and they always answer ‘I want to be the god of the underworld!’”

“Sarcasm won't help anything,” she said. “Until you embrace who you are meant to be, we can’t move forward.”

“It’s not that easy,” Yeonjun snapped, “And who are you to tell me what I have to do? You’re human, and young, and just an American kid who should have stayed there.”

He wanted her to yell back at him. To have a proper fight of it, until one of them stormed off.

Instead, she said, just above a whisper, “I know.”

His face went hot and his chest tightened. “No, I’m sorry, that’s not”—

“I am a foreigner, and I am younger than all of you, and I’m a girl, and I’m not that smart. I’ve pushed my way into a story that’s not mine. I’m probably distracting you from what’s really important, but I also just like you all so much that I don’t want to leave.”

She ducked her head and went to push her glasses up on her nose, even though she wasn’t wearing any. She grinned a little to herself, and brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear.

“I should be honest, too, shouldn’t I?” she said. “Mom wanted me to stay in America. Go to school with my cousins. I wasn’t happy here, before, you see. And if you’d died, I don’t think I’d have come back. But maybe I shouldn’t have anyways? Maybe I’m just reading into things, and I should just let you figure this out on your own?”

“No,” Yeonjun said, “That’s… well, I’m just… it’s been so much, you know? I know I need to be Death. And I’m pretty sure we need you, or I never will be.”

“Really?” She looked up at him again.

“Yeah. I think… I think you’re helping us in ways you don’t even know yet.”

“How?”

“As the Island fell apart, I think I heard your voice, and that’s the only reason The Wrongful Death didn’t slit my throat.”

##

Beomgyu knew it was all going to come out now. Of all of them, Mia cared most about the truth, which made a lie like this impossible for her.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Kai said, glaring at all of them in turn.

“She just got home yesterday,” Mrs. Cho said, “I’m sure she’s jetlagged, and girls of her age are just emotional sometimes.”

Kai turned sharply to her. “You’re the reason they’re all hiding something, aren’t you?”

Mrs. Cho’s expression froze on her face. Beomgyu felt for her. She just wanted Kai to be okay. She hadn’t had any kids of her own before taking him in. It didn’t seem like Kai had a big family circle, either. He never talked about cousins or grandparents. 

“I just want to be careful,” she said, her voice shaking, “You’re still recovering.”

“So is everyone else,” Kai retorted.

“You had the worst concussion,” she said, using the truth to conceal the deeper meaning. She sat in the chair Mia had vacated. When she rested her hand on Kai’s shoulder, he flinched.

Kai was staring at his plate, his eyes more intense than Beomgyu had ever seen them.

“Yeonjun was in the hospital even longer than I was,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “But Yeonjun knows. Yeonjun…”

Beomgyu envied Taehyun’s blindness, just for a moment. He couldn’t turn away, despite how badly he didn’t want to see.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Cho said, “I just wanted to protect you.”

Kai sighed, and nodded. “I get it. But I need to know. Please.” There was nothing rude or demanding in his tone. He was just asking.

He let Mrs. Cho put her arms around his shoulder, hugging him against her side. “In… in the accident…” she started, but that was as far as she went. She pressed her face into her nephew’s hair, her narrow shoulders shaking.

How had she found out about the accident? That her nephew was badly hurt? In the hospital?

“I can tell him,” Soobin said, “If that’s okay.”

So Soobin told him. Not in graphic detail. Kai was lucky, in a sense, that he’d been unconscious. No need to see the blood.

No need to see Beomgyu, running and hiding because he wasn’t brave enough to face it. Not even when his friends needed him most. Soobin left that detail out, too. Beomgyu wondered if he’d really noticed. Maybe not. Things other than Yeonjun probably hadn’t seemed important.

Next, Soobin explained what happened after. When infection had spread through Yeonjun’s body and the doctors had nearly given up.

“He’s okay now, right?” Kai asked, his voice quiet.

“He’s okay,” Soobin said, “He beat the odds, and he made it.”

“We all did,” Kai said.

That was the truth. Sixteen people had died at the site of the accident. Another twenty had succumbed to injuries over the next week. Beomgyu had been featured on half a dozen news shows at this point, and who knew how many articles, as the highest-profile victim of the accident. It was the greatest tragedy Seoul had seen in a long while.

A bit of a shock, that Mrs. Cho was the only one crying, her arms wrapped tightly around Kai. But maybe the rest of them had cried all they could already.

##

From the moment Yeonjun and Mia walked back into the apartment, they knew that Kai knew. Yeonjun felt a twinge in his chest. Kai looked older, somehow, and Yeonjun wished he wasn’t the reason for it.

Kai didn’t freak out, or ask Yeonjun any questions, or say anything to do with anything. Of course, they couldn’t talk about the Midworld or the Island, because Kai’s aunt was present for the entire evening. But the conversation was easier now that Mia wasn’t hiding anything.

Was she?

As Yeonjun watched her throughout the evening, he felt there was something off. But he didn’t question it.

And Kai…

Mia’s mother picked her up. Beomgyu and Taehyun left together.

“You heading out?” Soobin asked Yeonjun.

“Not yet,” Yeonjun said.

“I’ll wait for you,” Soobin said.

“I was thinking, though,” Yeonjun said, glancing at Kai, “I mean, I don’t want to invite myself over, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow, so I could totally spend the night here.”

“Yes!” Kai said, jumping from his seat. “Aunt, can he?”

“Certainly, if he wants to,” she said, “Soobin, you could stay, too, if you wanted.”

Soobin shook his head. “I’ll go home,” he said, “I prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“I swear you’re older than me,” Yeonjun said, “Like, forty years older.”

Soobin smiled at them, thanked Kai’s aunt for the meal, and left.

Kai’s aunt brought out blankets and pillows for the couches. Yeonjun was upbeat and cheerful, and it was easy. Kai laughed, and smiled, and joked with Yeonjun, and if it wasn’t for the eye patch Kai still had to wear and the sharp pain that Yeonjun suffered through every time he laughed, he’d think nothing at all had gone wrong.

They watched a few episodes of a comedy show, and then Kai’s aunt said they should go to sleep. School started in just a few days, and they should try to get into a good sleep schedule.

The lights were turned out.

Yeonjun pulled his blanket up to his chin. Soobin may have preferred his own bed, but Yeonjun felt more comfortable than he had in a long while. He’d called his mother, and she was fine with him staying here. Here, where he didn’t have to listen to her pacing the halls through the night, searching for robbers she was sure were coming to murder them. Sleep started pulling on him right away.

“Yeonjun?” Kai whispered, dragging him back to wakefulness. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. For any of you.”

“You lived,” Yeonjun said, scooting up on his pillows and glancing at Kai, “That’s all we needed you to do.”

The kid was sitting up on the other couch, knees pulled to his chest. He couldn’t quite tell in the dimness, but he was pretty sure Kai was hugging the dolphin Soobin had given him.

“Your… protection spell?” Kai said.

“The fake one?”

“Wasn’t fake, I don’t think. It saved me, maybe.”

“Wait, what?” Yeonjun rubbed his eyes, wanting to be fully awake for this.

“In the last seconds, as the Island was dissolving, into, well, reality. The… the underworld wanted me. Death wanted me. But I held onto that key, and I felt that it was keeping them from taking my soul.”

Yeonjun shivered.

“So thanks for that.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The silence settled again, and Yeonjun let his eyes drift closed. Images of Kai, his face covered in blood, flooded through his subconscious, but he pushed them away with thoughts of the real Kai, who was sleeping just across from him.

“Were you scared?”

Or maybe not sleeping.

“Huh?” Yeonjun asked, blinking awake again.

“When you… when you woke up. After the crash.”

Yeonjun took a breath.

“You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to,” Kai said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And yes. I was scared. Mostly for you, at first. Because…”

This wasn’t part of the deal. He doubted that Kai’s aunt wanted them to dredge through the details of Kai’s injuries, either.

“You think it’s cause we’re human?” Kai said, saving him from having to go into further detail. “Why we got so hurt, and the others didn’t?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“It’s scary to die, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said. “Especially with that _Thing_ being Death.”

“Do you think my parents were scared?”

He did not want to have this conversation right now, but he had no choice. Yeonjun reached behind his pillow and flipped on the lamp next to the couch. The yellow light flooded the room, but Kai didn’t look particularly sad or scared.

“Probably,” Yeonjun said.

“They didn’t die right away,” Kai said, “There was… there was a long while that they weren’t dead. But they couldn’t move, and I couldn’t move, and they were really hurt.”

Yeonjun popped his knuckles.

“I let the monster out,” Kai said, “The monster that was the reason my dad went off the road.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yeonjun said.

“That’s what happened,” Kai replied. “I don’t like it but I’ll have to be okay with it.”

“You might as well blame me, then,” Yeonjun said, “Or Soobin, or Beomgyu, or Taehyun. We all were going in and out the Gateways with you.”

Kai nodded. “When we do it now, do we let things out?”

Yeonjun hadn’t thought about it.

“Did we let out that centipede monster?” Kai asked.

Yeonjun thought back to that strange doctor in the hospital, talking about the accident. How all the news stations were still confused as to what had caused it, how no conclusive evidence had been found, even after the best investigative teams had spent weeks looking into the cause.

“You’re thinking it, too, right?” Kai said, “That something _we let out might be the reason that metro crashed?”_

_Yeonjun shook his head. Closed his eyes. Forty people had died. There was no way… no way that could be their fault…_

_But what if it was?_

_What if their day of playing hooky had killed dozens of people?_

_Thrown them into the chaos of the Underworld, ruled by the false Death?_

_“Don’t freak out,” Kai said, “Just because we were the reason doesn’t mean it was our fault.” He said it calmly, and precisely, like he’d thought through it. He’d complained about how boring it had been, sitting alone in a room and staring at the wall while his concussion healed. Was this what he’d been thinking about?_

_“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Yeonjun said. “If we’re the reason, then obviously we’re at fault.”_

_“Not necessarily.”_

_“How?”_

_“I need to go over a few things with Soobin first.”_

_“So you’re just going to leave me thinking I”—_

_“Just for a few days,” Kai said, “There’s a place where we can go to talk. After school on Wednesday, maybe, if everyone’s free. I should know by then." Kai yawned. "I’m tired. Goodnight, Yeonjun.”_

_Yeonjun stared at him until he fell asleep. Not fair, really. Twice Yeonjun had been on the verge of drifting off and Kai had woken him, then had put this idea that the metro crash had been their fault in Yeonjun’s head, and now he was sleeping soundly while Yeonjun wondered why he hadn’t considered this._

_Kai hadn’t even spoken to that creepy doctor in the hospital._

_Maybe Yeonjun shouldn’t have been so rude to that guy. Sure, telling a couple of kids scary stuff like that wasn’t strictly legal, but the fact remained that they weren’t exactly kids. Soobin wasn’t human and Yeonjun was literally chosen by the fates to be the god of death._

_Not that they knew what any of that meant._

_Maybe now that everything seemed to be over, that Mia was back and school was starting, things would start to make sense._

_Maybe, if he knew how to be what he was supposed to be, he might not mind so much that he’d had no choice in the matter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now Mia's back in the story and plot things are starting to happen...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :) I'll post Part 6, Chapter 4 next weekend.


	41. Run Away: Chapter 4

“So you’re serious,” Taehyun said, “We can come here and get free food whenever we want?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, shrugging, “I already told you.”

Soobin was beginning to get annoyed. Taehyun had asked about half a dozen times, and Beomgyu kept looking at him with this weirdly relieved smile, even though they all knew Taehyun couldn’t see any of them. There was some sort of secret there, something Soobin didn’t know. Soobin didn’t like it when he didn’t know something.

“So, let’s review what we've gone over so far,” Mia said. She’d brought a notebook, thinking that if they were going to really figure this out, it might help to write things down.

“Just because something is trying to kill us,” Yeonjun began, “Doesn’t mean that the collateral damage is our fault.”

“But we are going to be more careful in the future,” Beomgyu said, “And I’ve got some ideas on how we can do that, actually. Going deeper into our research, experimenting in the Midworld, while staying safe ourselves and not hurting anyone else.”

“We’ll get deeper into that later,” Mia said, “Kai, you give me something.”

“From Soobin’s research, it seems that the monsters can’t hurt Yeonjun directly, due to him being Chosen. But they can find him, and they can cause chaos around him that may hurt him or draw the attention of the False Death.”

“My research is also a little fuzzy about humans,” Soobin added, “I’m not sure what it means. Yeonjun is still human, and therefore, can be killed by men like any other human could. And considering Kai’s interactions with the False Death last April, it seems that he may have some humans under his control, maybe for that very purpose.”

Mia scribbled this last bit in her notebook. “This was meant to be review, but that’s a good point to add,” Mia said. “We’ll need to be careful.”

“Wait,” Kai said, “The False Death _met_ me. It saw me, for real. And, well, it seems like It must have seen Yeonjun when It hurt him. So how come It hasn’t tracked us down? It can’t be that hard, if It has human servants.”

“He’s not human,” Mia said, flipping to the beginning of her notebook, “And he’s not a god. He wasn’t chosen. He stole all the names of Death, and he shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“What’s that mean, though?” Yeonjun asked.

“It means that there must have been a price,” Taehyun said softly.

“A deal?” Soobin suggested.

“There’s stories about selling your soul to the Devil,” Mia said, “But nothing about the Devil selling his soul.”

“Because the Devil is, inherently, soulless, right?” Beomgyu said, “He’s empty. Evil.”

“This isn’t the Devil, though,” Taehyun said, “Not in the usual sense. This thing that is Death now wasn’t always Death.”

“Exactly,” Soobin said, “He’s an imposter. A thief.”

“As Mia said, he’s not a god,” Taehyun said, “He’s a Midworlder. Like us.”

“Not like me,” Beomgyu said, shaking his head, “Not like us. He’s really a monster. We’re practically human.”

Soobin didn’t quite agree with that, but didn’t want to fight it. “Right. The thing that is now Death was probably from the Midworld. He probably had a soul, at one point, but if he’s in the business of taking souls now, he likely lost his own.”

“Still leaves us with the question of where, how, and why,” Mia said, scribbling fiercely in her notebook. “Also, what are Midworlders like? You guys have special powers and stuff, but I don’t see how you could even dare try and take down the god of death.”

“We couldn’t,” Soobin said, “We’re still young. Even at the peak of their strength, I don’t know of any of Midworld kinds that would even want to attempt taking that power.”

Taehyun tilted his head. “Yeah,” he said, “Midworlders usually find their own place beautiful. The sweet twilight of the Woods. Because it is beautiful.”

“True,” Soobin said, “The Midworld is the best place for Fae creatures to live. There are monsters within the Wood that have been sleeping, peacefully, for hundreds of years, totally content.”

Kai moaned and put his head in his hands. “So why are you guys here? And so much like humans? And what about the other monsters?”

“Things are messed up,” Soobin said, “When entities cross dimensions, it’s never quite right. Which is why humans are so insistent that fairy stories are just for kids. If they pretend it’s fiction, they don’t have to be afraid.”

“Just because you close your eyes doesn’t mean the danger doesn’t exist,” Mia said.

“Which is why it’s good we’re all here together,” Soobin said, “Talking this through. Making a plan.”

“Because we have to be ready,” Yeonjun said, “We have to protect ourselves. Speaking of, this weekend, I’m going to teach you all a few things I’ve learned in terms of self defense.”

“Yes!” Kai said, “That’ll be fun.”

“It really is,” Yeonjun said, smiling at Kai, “And I feel like you’ll be good at it. Also, I’m working on protection spells. I think I’ve found some that we can put on charms that will keep us safe.”

“I thought the spells were fake?” Taehyun said.

“I was wrong about that,” Soobin said, “The book refuting them is probably not as credible as I first thought.”

“Really?” Mia said, “I looked at it in the library yesterday, and it seemed legit.”

“Yeah, but also, that spell did something for us during the crash.”

“Kept me from breaking my neck, I think,” Kai added, “Which was pretty cool, because paralysis and probable death are not things I want to experience.”

Yeonjun glanced away, and Soobin caught the fear in his eyes.

“So, we’ll learn how to throw a proper right hook on the weekend,” Mia said, “And get ourselves magical charms at some point. The Current Death must have paid dearly to kill the Old Death, and Yeonjun is the longest-surviving Chosen One to date, so we need to protect him until he can be the hero he needs to be. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agreed.

“We have nearly an hour until closing,” Mia said, “Beomgyu. You said you had some ideas for further exploration? Let’s go over those.”

##

Today was the day. They were going to put Beomgyu’s plan into action. Experimenting with magic, the Midworld, and something he called Lucid Creation. Something potentially dangerous, but potentially very useful as they tried to figure out what sort of monster The Wrongful Death was, and, just maybe, how they could beat him.

He had two last classes, and on his way towards Algebra 2, he spotted Mia standing outside her locker.

Mia, looking like he’d never seen her before.

Confirming the feelings he’d been getting from her since last week.

“What’s up?” he said, coming up behind her.

She jumped and swore, and he stepped back.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he said.

“I wasn’t scared,” she said.

“I’ve never heard you swear before.”

She looked away from him. “Okay, maybe I was a little scared.”

“Class starts, like, now,” he said, “Why are you still standing here?”

“No reason,” she said.

He leaned against the row of lockers. “Really? No reason?”

“I need my textbook,” she said.

“Forgot your locker code?”

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you opening it?”

“Because I don’t want to,” she said. “I just want to stand here, outside my locker, cursing myself for being blonde.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“Not until I know what’s going on.”

“I’m not afraid,” she lied. She pulled her frizzy hair back into a pony tail and entered her locker code. She yanked the door open and stepped back, cringing.

Nothing happened.

She sighed and gingerly grabbed her textbook. She held it away from her and fanned through the pages, like she was waiting for something to fall out.

“Okay, see you later,” she said

“Wait a second”—

“I’ll be late”—

“You’re already late. What was that about?”

Something caught her eye over his shoulder, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He turned around, and saw two girls whispering and hurrying away from them.

“Spiders,” she said.

“What?”

“Yesterday, I opened my locked, and there were two giant spiders on my book. One of them got on me. It was horrible.”

Beomgyu shuddered. He’d heard some girls laughing on the bus, about a student getting spiders in her hair. He’d never have guessed that Mia was the object of their bullying.

“That’s awful, I’m sorry,” he said, “Did you tell anyone? One of your teachers might help.”

She snorted. “No one helps me,” she said, “I’m just a foreigner.”

“What else have they done to you?”

She shrugged. “Someone tripped me when I was running to class the other day, but I can’t prove anything.”

“Just girls?” he asked.

“Yeah. Boys don’t take a second look at me. Never have, until Kai. And I had to work really hard so he’d notice me.”

Beomgyu grinned at her. “Well, you’ve got him, now. And the rest of us.”

“Yes. And you’re making me even later to my class than I would have been.” But she smiled at him as she said it, and his face suddenly felt hot.

“Can I walk you there?” he asked, quickly.

She looked up at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just want to make sure no one trips you,” he said, “It’s safer together.”

“I guess that would be okay.”

He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, but his instincts told him that he should go with her. They didn’t see any malicious students as they approached her science class, but he didn’t leave her side until she was safe within the door and in sight of a teacher.

Beomgyu knew why bullies picked on him. He was an easy target. His instincts had been so strong when he first entered middle school that he jumped at every noise, and his fear carried on into high school. Beaten and teased by students at school, abused by his parents at home. Trying to make himself as small as possible, to disappear into the shadows, but still, still, Baek Hyunjin had found him, had…

He shook his head.

Straightened his shoulders.

Eleventh-grade Beomgyu was not the same kid tenth-grade Beomgyu had been. He had some power. Taehyun had shown him that. Taehyun needed him, and Beomgyu had been able to step up.

Could he do the same for Mia?

She probably didn’t want him to.

And if it was just a bunch of girls, she could probably defend herself.

He’d call her tonight, anyways. Make sure she knew that he was there for her, if she ever needed him. He liked talking to her.

His instincts could be used for good. Running away from the scene of the accident was the last cowardly thing he’d do.

##

“Are you scared about tomorrow?” Taehyun asked, holding his phone above his face.

“No way,” Beomgyu said, smiling. “It’s going to be great, and we’ll learn so much.”

Taehyun wanted to believe him. There was something so compelling about Beomgyu, ever since the accident. Seeing him step forward, make his own choices, rushing forward instead of cowering back.

A light in his eye that said he was running towards something worth finding, and that there was no longer a need to escape it all by jumping out his window.

But still…

“I’m not sure,” Taehyun said.

“Why the heck not?”

“It’s magic, Beomgyu. Real magic.”

“We’re magical creatures, are we not? Souls from a different realm, trapped within these human forms?”

“God, stop it. You sound creepy.”

Beomgyu laughed, and it was all right again. “Sorry, Tae. But I did my research, and Soobin’s done his. We need to do something, if we’re going to save Yeonjun next time the Monster strikes.”

“The Wrongful Death, you mean,” Taehyun said, shocked he could keep his voice steady.

“Same difference, right?” Beomgyu said, “All the monsters, out there trying to kill us, if we don’t kill them first.”

“I guess so,” Taehyun said, “But you’ve got to be careful, you know. Make sure you don’t kill the wrong thing.”

“It’s easy to spot monsters,” Beomgyu said.

Taehyun forced a yawn. “You okay if I go to sleep?”

"Wanna video chat all night?"

“Ah, I would, but I’m at thirty percent. Gotta save some until we get to school tomorrow.”

It was a lie. His phone was at eighty. But Beomgyu believed it.

For the first time, Taehyun just didn’t want to talk to him.

“Okay. Night then.”

“Night.”

He pressed the red button.

Turned off his phone.

Let his arm flop onto the bed.

The star in his eye shone brightly on the ceiling above him. Summer was on the verge of giving way, but his t-shirt still stuck to him, and the air was almost hard to breathe, it was so full of moisture and heat.

He didn’t like the idea of using magic to send them to some dream-twisted version of the Midworld. The Island had been terrifying, not cool. They'd been on the verge of death. And now Beomgyu wanted to send them back? For fun? For a small chance that it might help them understand Yeonjun’s true power?

True power.

_Truth._

If Beomgyu knew what Taehyun really was, would Beomgyu want him dead?

His heart told him it was ridiculous. Beomgyu cared for him. They were friends. Beomgyu brought him food, and kept his secret, and on that worst day, Beomgyu had come for him. Hadn’t left him to the doctors and social workers and scientists who would have eventually killed him. Beomgyu had held him as it seemed the world was falling apart. Beomgyu had cried as he told Taehyun about the screaming victims in the crash. About the dead body he’d stumbled over. The woman with the broken arm. He’d listened and Taehyun described how terribly hot Yeonjun’s blood had been. How it wouldn’t stop. How scared the police officer had been who helped them until the EMTs finally came.

That Beomgyu, the Beomgyu with the understanding eyes and the careful hugs would never hurt him, right?

Right?

There was no one to hide his tears from, so why did he feel so ashamed in crying?

Why did his head tell him that the moment any of them discovered his connection to the Wrongful Death, that they’d have him killed? That Beomgyu might even pull the trigger himself?

What made monsters irredeemably evil, anyways? Didn’t they have a choice in the matter, whether they were good or bad?

Or had this blasted Sight doomed him from the moment he was born?

##

“I’m not sure about this,” Soobin said, standing back and looking over his glasses at the designs he’d drawn on the chalkboard.

Yeonjun moaned. “Come on,” he said, trying to push down his irritation, “We’ve taken all the precautions.”

“Beomgyu knows his stuff,” Kai said, slapping Beomgyu on the back. Beomgyu’s smile stiffened for a second before becoming real again.

“Yeah,” he said, “It really wasn’t that hard, once Soobin loaned me that alchemy book, and I applied it to what I did on the Island with the firecrackers.”

“Besides,” Mia said, “I’m here to wake you up, if anything goes wrong.”

“I still don’t think you should be here,” Soobin said.

“Kai gets to be here,” Mia pouted.

“Kai can go into the Midworld,” Soobin said, “You can’t.”

“Any progress on that, by the way?” Yeonjun asked, partially because he wanted to know, partially to show Mia she was welcome with them. “It really would be better if she could come.”

“Not much,” Soobin said, “I have other priorities right now.”

Mia’s lips came together in a flat line, and she stared at Soobin. Soobin didn’t notice. He was working an equation on a sheet of scrap paper.

“We’ll get you there soon,” Kai said.

“In the meanwhile, I’ll be here to wake you up, if things go bad.”

“Or maybe…” Soobin said, tapping a pen against the side of his nose.

“Maybe what?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyun said, “Instead of just falling asleep, we all die.”

“Dying is a touch dramatic,” Soobin said, “But there’s just so many unknowns.”

“But we’ve read the theories,” Beomgyu whined, “Let’s just try it and get it over with.”

“Theories aren’t actual experiences,” Soobin said, “And this involves dreams. Which, if my anonymous Chinese alchemist is to be believed, are more dangerous and telling than you’d think.”

“That guy died like a hundred years ago, right?” Kai said. He was sitting on the edge of a desk, and even he looked a little impatient with Soobin.

“I guess so,” Soobin muttered.

Beomgyu looked about to make another remark, so Yeonjun decided to step in. “Which means,” he said, “That a lot of things have changed since he was around. With the blurriness of the worlds.”

“The worlds were plenty blurry back then, too,” Soobin said, but Yeonjun knew his attention was on the chalkboard.

“So, what,” Beomgyu said, “We’re going to cancel the whole thing?”

“No,” Soobin said, “Taehyun and I are outvoted. We’ll go through with it.” He opened a book, glanced over a page, and slammed it closed again. “Is everyone ready?” 

“Yes!” Kai said, jumping off the desk and sitting himself in the corner. He grabbed his key necklace out from under his shirt collar and held it between his hands.

Beomgyu pulled Taehyun next to him, and they settled down against the wall by the window.

“Mia, you need to leave,” Soobin said, taking off his reading glasses and tossing them onto the desk Yeonjun was sitting at.

“I don’t see why I can’t…”

“This is dangerous, and there’s no reason for you to be here,” Soobin said. “Anyways, if we haven’t come out in an hour, you need to wake us up. You remember the spell?”

She nodded. “I have it written down.”

“Good. Now, get out in the hall, and don’t think about coming back in.”

“Yes, sir,” she snarked at him.

“The disrespect,” he said, “Don’t try opening the door until the hour is up. I’ll be sitting in front of it.”

She glared at him, and then. “Okay. I promise I’ll stay out there. But you guys by really careful, and make sure to remember everything. I want to know it all.”

“We promise,” Kai said.

Soobin closed the door behind Mia and sat down with his back against it.

“Last chance to stop this,” Soobin said.

“You’re outvoted, remember?” Beomgyu said, and pulled Taehyun a little tighter against him. Yeonjun wondered if Beomgyu remembered that Taehyun, too, didn’t really want to do this.

Soobin drew the final chalk circle on the floor in front of him.

Kai slumped over so fast that Yeonjun started. He kept his arms on the desk so that he wouldn’t fall if he, too, suddenly fell asleep. He glanced back towards Soobin, and watched as Soobin’s eyelids got heavy and finally closed. Still feeling not at all sleepy, he looked over his shoulder at Taehyun, who had crumpled over into Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu’s head tilted back against the wall, his mouth open slightly.

Yeonjun turned his focus back to the desk.

Why was he still awake?

He flipped open the book in front of him. His heart was beating faster, not slower. He took a pen and started scratching the pages of the book, creating a sort of box in the center of the pages. Minutes ticked by. Sometimes, he would pause, to make sure he could hear the others breathing in this utter silence.

Why was he awake?

Why was he awake?

Why was he—

“Yeonjun! Finally!”

Where was he?

The sky was bright. The day clear. Kai and Beomgyu ran to him, nearly knocking him over with their hugs. Taehyun, both his eyes a soft brown, smiled at Yeonjun.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Taehyun said, “They’re just impatient.”

“Come on!” Beomgyu said, “Follow me, and we’ll find Soobin.”

Yes. Follow Beomgyu. This was all right.

Beomgyu dragged them all forward. They couldn’t resist him, but why would they want to? This world was free. Anything could happen.

Beomgyu pressed the doorbell.

##

Alone.

Alone in this house.

Soobin wasn’t very afraid, but he was a little afraid, and he didn’t quite know why.

It was quiet. Truly quiet.

The doorbell rang, and he jumped. He stared through the peephole, and there were his friends.

Not alone anymore.

(Why did he still feel alone?)

##

Kai wished he had a cookie, but Beomgyu snagged the only one.

“Delicious,” Beomgyu said, taking the gingerbread cookie and biting off its head.

“Careful,” Yeonjun said, “It’s still hot.”

“Not if I don’t want it to be,” Beomgyu said, grinning. “We can do anything here. Remember? Lucid Creation. Anything we want is possible. TV, anyone?”

Kai ran with them into the living room. He and Yeonjun and Beomgyu jumped on the couch, and something played on the screen. One of those shows that was good for the background, but you didn’t really have to pay attention to. Kai wasn’t sure what it was, and since he didn’t care to know, he never would.

Beomgyu pulled out his phone, and started snapping selfies of the three of them.

“Whoa, is that the new iPhone?” Kai asked, grabbing for it.

Beomgyu pulled it out of his reach. “You could have one, too, if you wanted.”

For a moment, he considered. But he didn’t really want it. Phones were distracting.

Where were Soobin and Taehyun?

Oh. Right there. Sitting on the floor, staring at the TV.

Why weren’t they laughing and playing?

Soobin was chewing gum, and Taehyun just stared ahead, his head tilted to one side.

“Hey, Soobinie,” Yeonjun whined, “Why do you always act so old and boring?”

Soobin blew a bubble with his gum. Yeonjun popped it, and Soobin looked at him.

“Come on. Take pictures with us. Memories.”

“I don’t know if I want to remember this,” Soobin said. “I”—

They didn’t hear what he said next, because Beomgyu jumped off the back of the couch and exclaimed, “Let’s go jump on the bed!”

##

There was one good thing: Taehyun might be able to see with both his eyes for a bit after this, like when they'd been to the Island. But that was scary, too, because…

Why?

It made no sense.

His black eye didn’t leave him after spending time in the Woods. So why had it disappeared after they'd nearly died? He suspected it had something to with being so close to the Underworld, but if that was the case, were they also close to dying here?

And why was Beomgyu so freaking excited?

Soobin, at least, still seemed cautious. They followed the other three more slowly to the bedroom. Kai and Beomgyu were jumping on the bed, smacking each other with pillows, while Yeonjun laughed at them.

Soobin backed away. Taehyun watched him go to the kitchen, sitting at the table with his back to them.

Beomgyu’s hand landed on Taehyun’s shoulder. “Come on! It’s fun!”

He dragged him into the fray.

He hated it, but could do nothing.

He wished he was blind.

Wished he couldn’t see that it was Beomgyu who tackled him with a heavy quilt.

Beomgyu, who pinned down against the mattress.

The sounds of the others were light. Joyful. Joking.

They didn’t realize, or didn’t care, that Taehyun couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t have the energy to fight even he struggled to find air.

If Beomgyu wanted to kill him…

Taehyun knew he’d just let him.

##

Kai knew something was wrong.

But he didn’t care.

Yeonjun was happy.

Beomgyu was happy.

Or…

Were they?

Where were they?

What was this?

##

A glass sat before Soobin. Clear, pink liquid inside. Maybe pink lemonade. But he knew if he drank it, he’d die. The Underworld was so close.

This had been a mistake.

Hadn’t it?

Weren’t they all dying now?

The poison was probably in their veins.

Dragging them down.

Why’d he done the spell?

So they could learn something.

He listened, but he heard nothing. Well, not nothing. He heard the rest of them, messing around in the bedroom. A bedroom that hadn’t existed until Beomgyu had wanted it to.

##

Yeonjun felt stillness all around him.

Stillness, and an old voice.

He couldn’t understand it. He simply knew it was speaking, and that it was kind.

That it knew him.

Knew him more than anyone did.

Had it been the Voice to warn him? Not Mia?

As suddenly as the stillness appeared, it was gone.

Clarity rushed over him.

He’d left the oven on, hadn’t he?

##

Why wasn’t Taehyun fighting?

Why was he just laying there?

He’d looked afraid, as Beomgyu had tackled him.

Why?

Come on. They were just messing around. Just playing in this place. Nothing they did could really hurt each other.

But Taehyun didn’t struggle.

Just lay still under the quilt Beomgyu had over his face.

“Come on,” Beomgyu whispered, “You can't hurt me. Nothing’s real here.”

Taehyun still didn't fight back.

_This is right._

Beomgyu shuddered.

He found he couldn’t let up.

He knew Taehyun couldn’t get enough air through the blanket.

Why did that feel right?

Why did he want to hurt his best friend?

_Monsters deserve to die._

He glanced towards the dark window.

When had the sun gone down?

Taehyun wasn’t a monster. He was just a kid. Beomgyu's best friend. He deserved to live. More than any of them. 

For weeks, months, Beomgyu had been fighting to help Taehyun stay alive, so why the hell was he smothering him under this blanket?

Why wasn’t Taehyun fighting him? Was he just going to stop breathing, just slide into the underworld, because Beomgyu…

Beomgyu was free here.

He made his own choices.

_No you don’t._

Despite the voice, he pulled back, and—

##

Soobin pushed the glass of liquid off the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite help from my incredible beta reader (shoutout to Becca), this chapter remains a bit on the confusing side XD If you have any questions as to what's going on, please ask, and unless the answers are supposed to be secrets (and will be answered in future chapters) I'll try to explain what I was hoping to get across with my writing.
> 
> Hope you all have a lovely week! I'll post Part 6, Chapter 5 next weekend.


	42. Run Away: Chapter 5

Beomgyu woke up to the smell of smoke.

He stumbled to his feet.

Where was he?

_Library._

Yes.

And everyone else…

Slumped over.

Still sleeping.

The fire was in front of Yeonjun. He was out cold, leaning on the desk, though orange flames leapt from the pages of the book in front of him.

Beomgyu ran to the door, shoving Soobin from where he lay in front of it and squeezing out into the hall.

His first instinct was to run and not stop, but he ignored it.

There was a fire extinguisher just down the hall.

He broke the glass and grabbed it out, rushing back towards the library.

Where was Mia? Surely she would have heard him, and would have raced out to help.

But no.

##

Yeonjun awoke. He stared at the fire flickering in front of him. The warmth, the color, the dancing flames…

_Damn._

He sat back, pain throbbing in his finger.

He hadn’t touched the fire. Why had he been burned?

Then the reasonable part of his brain came back.

Why the bloody hell is this book on fire?

He hardly had time to think it before the door flew open. Soobin swore as it hit him, and Beomgyu jumped through, holding a fire extinguisher.

##

The fire didn’t go out.

Soobin stared in shock.

Beomgyu had doused it with the fire extinguisher, but still, it stayed. Flaming. Definitely hot, if the burn on Yeonjun’s thumb said anything.

Beomgyu dropped the fire extinguisher, staring wide-eyed at the flame.

“What the bloody hell?” Yeonjun muttered.

“Magic,” Soobin replied. “It’s got to be magic.

They watched. The book was not consumed, but it continued to burn. It did not spread to the desk. It just stayed, a little fire, flickering atop the pages.

Kai moaned from under the blackboard, and Yeonjun went to him. Beomgyu carefully approached Taehyun, and shook his shoulder until he woke.

Soobin stared at the fire. He knew they shouldn’t have played with magic. He knew, yet he’d let them anyways, and now, what the hell were they supposed to do? How could they get rid of a freaking book with an flame burning on it that wouldn’t go out?

Thankfully it wasn’t an important book. In fact, it was the one that claimed to debunk the protection spells. That claimed magic wasn’t real at all. Funny, to see it cursed by magic itself. What would the authors think?

“It’s ten thirty,” Kai said, panic in his voice, and Soobin glanced towards him.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, “Can you stand?”

“It’s ten thirty,” Kai said, even more intensely.

“Whatever,” Yeonjun said, “Your Aunt was working late, remember? She won’t be worried.”

“We went to sleep at seven,” Kai said, “Why didn’t Mia wake us up? Where is she?”

Oh.

Dear.

That was something to think about, too.

##

Yeonjun found her.

His heart dropped into his stomach. She was in the teacher’s lounge down the hall. She lay on the ground by the window, looking like she’d dropped with no warning. 

He knelt next to her, brushed the hair away from her pale face. It didn’t seem that she’d hit her head on anything. He felt her throat, and her pulse beat steady against his fingers.

“Mia, wake up,” he said, shaking her shoulder.

He knew she wouldn’t.

He picked her up as carefully as he could, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be. There was no sign of life in her at all, outside of the pulse he’d felt earlier.

He rushed towards the library. “Soobin!” he called, “I’ve got her.”

Soobin opened the door for him, turning his back on the magical flame. He swore when he saw her.

“Here, let me help.” Soobin took her legs, and they lowered her to the ground. Yeonjun held Mia, as Soobin felt her wrist. Her breathing. Held his hand to her forehead.

The others burst into the library, Kai crying her name when he saw her. Beomgyu held him back.

“Kai, calm down,” Beomgyu said.

“What did we do?" Kai asked, "What did we do to her? She was supposed to be okay, if she wasn’t in the room with us.”

“Shut up,” Soobin snapped.

Yeonjun felt for Kai, as the boy leaned back against Beomgyu, hands clapped over his mouth.

“What happened?” Beomgyu whispered.

“I think the magic was stronger than we guessed,” Soobin said. He stood, and Yeonjun heard him rustling around on the bookshelves behind him. The flame continued crackling on the book on the desk, and Mia continued to lay still as death in his arms.

“She’s not dead, is she?” Taehyun asked, from deeper in the library. Yeonjun started and turned to him. He was still under the window, where he’d fallen asleep. Strange, that he alone hadn’t moved yet.

“No,” Yeonjun said, “She’s just asleep.”

“Should we call 911?” Beomgyu asked.

“They won’t be able to do anything,” Soobin said, coming back and sitting next to Mia again. “I only hope we can. Taehyun, come help me.”

Taehyun seemed reluctant, but he crawled over.

“Hold her left hand, while I take her right. Now, it should just be a simple circle, and a drop of blood…”

Yeonjun shivered. Kai closed his eyes.

Soobin drew the circle on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He took the sharp edge of the pen cap to Mia’s palm.

Yeonjun couldn’t watch him hurt her, even though he knew it had to be done.

Soobin took Mia’s hand and pressed it to the circle he’d drawn on the floor.

She took a deep breath and shuddered. Her eyes opened and she stared up at Yeonjun.

“What’s happening? Did I fall asleep?” She reached to push herself up, and winced. “Ow. What happened to my hand? Why’s Kai crying?”

“Mistakes were made,” Soobin said, leaning back and letting out a breath he’d probably been holding for too long. “The spell was stronger than expected. You were too close, and it knocked you out.”

“Really?” she said, sitting up the rest of the way. “Tell me all about it.”

“It’s too late,” Soobin said.

“How late?”

“Ten forty,” Kai said, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes. Beomgyu had let go of him and disappeared into the hallway.

“Oh my god,” Mia said, “That’s… wild.”

“I’m sorry,” Soobin said.

“You tried to get me to stay home,” she said, “What are you sorry about?”

“I needed blood to wake you up, so I had to cut your hand.”

Mia stared down at her palm. “Ah. That explains the pain. Creepy, though. What would my mom say, if she knew my blood had been used in a magical ritual?”

“It wasn't much of a ritual,” Soobin said, “But I’m glad it worked. The spell we did was meant to drag any in its circle to a form of the Midworld, but as you’ve never crossed realms before, I don’t know if you’d ever have woken up naturally.”

“That’s creepy,” Mia said. She stood up, being careful of her cut hand. “Still bleeding. I should probably find a bandage or something.”

“Two steps ahead of you,” Beomgyu said, dodging back into the room with a small white box in his hands. “Here, disinfect it with that, and I think this bandaid is the right size…”

Yeonjun stood. His hands were shaking a little. So much had happened in such a short time, and it was so late at night, and they still had to deal with the eternal flame.

“Fascinating,” Mia said, as she saw it. “You can’t put it out?”

“Apparently not,” Soobin said, and sighed. His shoulders slumped, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “It’s too late for this. God. What are we supposed to do?”

“Could we hide it?” Kai said.

“Where?” Soobin ask, “There’s smoke, and…” He grabbed a spare sheet of paper from the desk and stuck it in the flame. It caught, and Soobin held the paper by a corner as the flames licked towards his fingers. At the last moment, he dropped the final scrap into the flames, where it was completely consumed.

He didn’t get burned. Yeonjun rubbed his forefinger over the sore spot on his thumb. He knew he hadn’t been close enough to get burned, so why was he?

“Is there a spell?” Taehyun asked, “Something we can use to hide it?”

“Of course there’s a fricking spell,” Soobin snapped, “There’s always a fricking spell, but I don’t know fricking enough about the spell to be sure it won’t do something I don’t expect.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun whispered, shrinking back in a way that seemed wrong.

Soobin leaned his hands on the desk. “No. I’m sorry. I… just…” he sighed. “Mia, go get one of those cardboard boxes next to the wall.”

“Yes, sir,” Mia said brightly.

Over the next ten minutes, with lots of help from Taehyun (why was it him, that Soobin went to for help, and not Beomgyu?), Soobin used an alchemical circle to change the box from cardboard to metal. They put the flaming book inside, and he had Taehyun scratch a spell into the lid of it.

As most of them tried to decide on the perfect place to leave the box, everyone having a different opinion, Beomgyu approached Yeonjun. “Can I see your hand?” he asked.

“Why?” Yeonjun asked, looking at him. He felt a little angry at Beomgyu, and he wasn’t certain why. Beomgyu was the reason they’d all had fun inside the House. The reason they’d gone at all. And sure, there had been some negative consequences... but there was that Voice… the Voice was important. He knew it was.

“You burned your thumb,” Beomgyu said, ducking his head, “I noticed, when I was trying to put out the fire.”

“Oh. Umm, yeah.”

“So, a bandage and this cream with help it not hurt so bad,” Beomgyu said. “Can I see?”

Yeonjun held out his hand, and Beomgyu gently spread the cream from the first aid kit on it, then covered it with a bandage. “This stuff is amazing. It won’t hurt at all tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Yeonjun said.

Kai and Mia skipped back to them, followed by Taehyun, and a yawning Soobin. “Box is hidden!” Mia said.

“Safe and sound,” Kai continued.

“For now,” Soobin said, “I’ll… I’ll have to redo the cooling spell every few days, but the… the alchemy will last.” He yawned again.

“Time to go home,” Taehyun said.

“Tomorrow, Smeraldo Cafe, noon?” Mia suggested.

“Let’s make it four,” Soobin said, “I intend to sleep long past noon.”

Mia huffed. “I guess. Okay. Four o’clock, Smeraldo Cafe.”

They left the school together. The buses were still running. Beomgyu, Mia, and Kai hopped on one. Taehyun walked off towards his home, and Yeonjun and Soobin went the opposite direction.

“Think you could walk with me to my house?” Soobin asked, his words slow.

“Sure,” Yeonjun said.

They walked a few blocks in silence. Cicadas chirped in the trees, and Yeonjun wondered if they were hurting Soobin’s ears. 

Soobin spoke again, his voice even stranger. “Don’t be… scared but…”

Soobin stumbled. He might have fallen, had not Yeonjun been there to catch him.

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun demanded. Soobin got his feet under himself, but he leaned heavily against Yeonjun. “Did something happen to you? In that… that house?”

“Just… the magic…” Soobin slurred, “It’s just… the magic. It’s… bloody exhausting.”

“So you’re okay? You can breathe and all that?”

“Eeyup,” Soobin said, “I just… I’m so tired. So tired.”

“Well, stay awake,” Yeonjun asked.

“I’m… trying…”

Soobin wasn’t much taller than Yeonjun, but after how hard it had been carrying Mia across the hall, he was pretty sure carrying Soobin three more blocks and up his apartment stairs was not going to happen.

He had to keep him awake and walking.

“So, hey, this magic, it’s pretty cool, right? You can do magic.” 

“Eeyup,” Soobin said, sounding almost drunk.

“You changed a cardboard box to metal,” Yeonjun said, “Super awesome.”

“Couldn’t have done it… without Tae…”

“What makes him special?” Yeonjun said, “I’d help you, if you asked.”

Soobin laughed. “No. It’s gotta… gotta be Taehyun. He’s got more in him… than all of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dunno. But without him helping me. Just… Waking up Mia, it would have… maybe knocked me out. And the box… coulda killed me.”

“Nah, no way,” Yeonjun said. Soobin stumbled again, and Yeonjun pulled his arm over his shoulder. “You’re too cool for that.”

“I am… pretty cool. But kind of… kind of a jerk. Sometimes.”

“We’re all jerks sometimes,” Yeonjun said. He spotted Soobin’s building ahead. “Come on. Just a little further.”

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Soobin couldn’t remember the passcode. Yeonjun hadn’t been here in years. The hallway was a little more run down than he remembered, but it was clean.

He knocked on the door.

Mrs. Choi threw it open immediately. “Soobin, I was about to call—oh my god, what’s going on?”

“He’s tired,” Yeonjun said, and Mrs. Choi stepped aside, letting him bring Soobin inside. “Stayed up all night yesterday studying, and I guess night school just broke him.”

It was clear she didn’t believe him, but she took Soobin’s other arm and helped support him.

“Sorry… mom…” Soobin muttered, and it did not help their case.

“His room’s this way,” Mrs. Choi said.

“I remember,” Yeonjun responded.

Soobin collapsed onto his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. They stood there, for a minute, Yeonjun catching his breath, Mrs. Choi glaring at him. Part of him wanted to fall on the bed next to Soobin and pretend he was passed out, as well, but that would only delay the inevitable.

Mrs. Choi’s hand gripped his shoulder and she steered him out of the room. She was strong, for such a short woman. She shoved him into a chair and sat across from him.

“How much did he drink?” she demanded.

“Drink? He didn’t”—

“I’m not an idiot, and you’re not in trouble. Not if you tell me.”

“He didn’t”—

“Seventeen-year-olds are stupid, and when you’re stupid, you don’t always realize that alcohol can kill you if you drink too much. I just need to know if I might need to call an ambulance.”

Yeonjun sat back. This was not where he wanted to be. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Choi.”

“You’d better be.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Soobin, except overworking himself.” Completely true.

“You come home two hours after he’s supposed to be here, and my son can’t even stand up. He looks completely wasted, and he instantly falls asleep.”

“He didn’t smell like soju, though?” Yeonjun suggested, “I don’t, either. We weren’t drinking.”

Mrs. Choi let out a sigh. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “I guess that’s right. I’m sorry. I guess I’m overreacting. But I just… Am I pushing him too hard?”

She looked up at him, her stare no longer angry.

“What the h—I mean, hmm? What do you mean?”

“You said he stayed up all night yesterday, and has been studying ever since school got out?”

“Yes,” Yeonjun said, nodding, “Exactly.”

“I tell him to keep his grades up and he always does. Should I not do that? Is it hurting him?”

“I… don’t know,” Yeonjun said.

“Does your mom pressure you?”

“My mom thinks school is a plot from the secret government to brainwash children,” Yeonjun said, “I go because I want to.”

Mrs. Choi sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry. I… I just feel like he’s not telling me something, so I leapt to the worst possible conclusion. You’re looking out for him, right?”

“I’d say it’s the other way around.”

Mrs. Choi smiled at him. “I’m so glad you two are friends again. He seems so much happier now, even if he’s hiding something.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing important,” Yeonjun said, and she seemed to believe him.

##

Soobin did not go to meet the others at the Smeraldo cafe.

He woke up feeling like his head was going to explode. He heard _everything_ , with no respite from whatever the hell they’d done (or not done) in that strange between-world yesterday. The sounds, however, were blurred, and hard to identify, which made it worse.

His phone showed a handful of texts from Yeonjun, about how Soobin’s mother thought they’d been out drinking, and he’d probably convinced her that Soobin was just studying too hard. And so Soobin was glad his mother was at work, because he’d spent most of the early afternoon throwing up: an unexpected side effect, and one that probably would have made his mom ask more questions that he couldn’t answer honestly.

The idea of going out, getting on the metro, and sitting in the cafe for hours discussing the events of last night was just not possible.

When his mother got home at six, he was sitting on the couch, watching TV with the sound down so low no one else could have heard it.

“You know grades are important,” his mother said, “But you have to sleep, too.”

“I know,” he moaned.

“I was thinking we’d order takeout for dinner?”

Soobin’s stomach turned, but he said, “Sure. Whatever you’d like.”

Three minutes later, the doorbell rang.

“Funny,” his mother said, “Who could that be?”

“Food?” Soobin suggested.

“I was going to go pick it up.”

She opened the door.

“Hello? What can I do for you?” his mother said, in a strangely polite voice.

“Is Soobin here?”

He’d thought there was a chance that one of his friends would show up, but Mia would have been his last guess.

“Yes, why?”

“I’m his friend, and I wanted to see if he was feeling better. After how tired he was last night.”

“You’re part of his… study group, too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen. Tenth grade.”

He listened carefully. He wished he could see around the corner to the door. He’d never mentioned Mia to his mother.

“I was just running out to get dinner,” his mother said, her voice changing from polite to kind, “Would you like to eat with us?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude, I just wanted to talk to Soobin for a little.”

“It’s no intrusion at all. Please, come in. You two can talk, and I’ll be back with food in twenty minutes.”

Mia entered. She looked incredibly American today, wearing leggings and a hoodie that read “SEASIDE, OR” in big, white letters across the front. Her hair was messily tied up on the back of her head, and she wore her old glasses.

His mother checked that Mia liked what they were ordering, or if she’d like a hamburger instead, and even though he knew Mia would have preferred the hamburger, she said bibimbap was perfect.

Mia sat in the recliner.

“And I thought I looked bad,” she said.

“I'm not throwing up anymore,” Soobin said, “So that’s an improvement.”

“Here.” She pulled a bottled drink out of her messenger back. “That pretty barista asked where you were, and Yeonjun said you weren’t feeling well. She gave me this for you on the way out.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought she’d remember me.”

“Well, she did,” Mia said, tossing him the bottle. She was talking quietly, and he appreciated it. “I’m sure she’d go out with you if you asked.”

Soobin shook his head. “No way. I hate that even you’re involved in all this. I’m not dragging another innocent girl into the disaster of our lives.”

“No one dragged me,” Mia said, “I jumped in willingly.”

Soobin opened the bottle and took a drink. He cringed. “God, this is disgusting.”

“She said it would help energize you.”

“Wouldn’t a quad-shot latte do the same thing?”

“No caffeine in this. It’ll really wake you up, not just give you a burst of energy. Drink it.”

He took another drink. Still awful, but he could almost feel it working already. “How’s your hand?” he asked.

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Your hand. Where I cut you.”

“Nearly healed already. Don’t worry about it.”

“And are you okay, otherwise?”

“I mean, I slept till noon, and my head hurts a little, but nothing bad.”

She crossed her legs and sighed. He could see dark circles under her eyes, and her freckles stood out brighter than usual. She looked down at the scab on her hand, picking at it.

“They want to go back, don’t they?” Soobin asked.

“It’s what they decided,” she said.

“Why?”

“I guess Yeonjun heard a voice or something, and they’ve convinced themselves that if they go back, they’ll be better prepared. That they’ll be able to listen, and pay attention, and come back knowing more about the Underworld.”

“I didn’t expect anything less.”

“And they won’t let me come,” Mia said.

“Obviously,” Soobin said.

“I don’t think you should go back there,” Mia said.

“I agree.”

“But you’re going anyways, aren’t you?”

“They’d go without me, if I didn’t.”

Mia moaned. “They told me all about it. And I can see why they want to go back. I mean, it sounds kinda awesome. A place where literally anything you want can come to be? Where if you want to be happy, you will be happy? Who wouldn’t want to go there?”

Soobin considered this. Beomgyu was the one who had fought so hard for them to try finding the Island-space again. Who had discovered that you could make anything real there in the first place. Taehyun and Soobin didn’t particularly like it. Kai and Yeonjun seemed neutral. He wondered if that said anything about who they were as people.

“What dimension is it in, anyways?” Mia asked. “It doesn’t sound like the Midworld, and it’s definitely not the Overworld. It can't be the Underworld, right? Because don’t you have to be dead to go there?”

“It’s a Gateway,” Soobin said.

“But aren’t Gateways safe and uneventful, overall? Just a way to get to the Midworld?”

“The space we went to during the metro crash, and again yesterday, was a Gateway between the Midworld and the Underworld.”

Mia shivered visibly. “So you got forcibly thrown there when the metro crashed and you guys nearly died. And yesterday, the spell?”

“The spell sent us there,” he said. “Sleep and death aren’t all that different for those touched by magic. I found a sleeping spell to send us there, and it sent you to sleep, too.”

“But instead of going to a magical house where I can make anything I want reality,” she said, “I dreamed that I failed my chemistry quiz and my mom threw me out of the house and then I was chased by a dog before running into a baseball stadium where all my teeth started falling out.”

Soobin laughed. “What the heck?”

“Have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out? It’s horrible.”

“I have never dreamed that, and I hope it stays that way,” Soobin said.

Mia leaned back. “Was I really in danger, yesterday?”

“Yes,” Soobin said.

“So there’s no chance you’ll let me come with you next Friday?”

“Zero.”

“Why can’t I be like you?”

Soobin snorted. “Why the hell would you want to be like us?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You get to go on awesome adventures, and learn real magic, and, like, do things that actually help.”

“You help plenty,” Soobin said.

“What, in telling you about story structure? My deep and mostly-useless knowledge of fairy tales and conspiracy theories?”

“If Yeonjun took fairy tales as seriously as you do, we’d be in a much better position than we are now.”

“I just want to see it,” she said, “The Midworld. The magic. The monsters.”

“You see me almost every day.”

“But you aren’t a monster,” Mia said, “None of you. Not really.”

“You think that simply because you’re used to us.”

She crossed her arms and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you think I could get a set of wings, like Kai’s? Something that will let me in?”

Soobin shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“But why not? Why him, and not me?”

“That’s not my story to tell.”

“You can see how this is frustrating, right?” She rubbed her eyes. “I want to do more, and I don’t see why Kai can be one of you, really one of you, and I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, I”—

“Is it because his parents died violently, and my dad died from boring old cancer? But wait. No. That can’t be it. Because Kai went to the woods before, right? When his parents were alive. Nothing tragic in his life at all, and he just skips into Faerieland. Why?”

“I… I don’t know,” Soobin said.

“You have a guess, though,” Mia said.

“Yes. I do have a guess on why Kai can enter the Midworld. But it’s just a guess, and I don’t want to share it with anyone.”

“Fine. Keep your stupid secrets,” Mia said, “I’ll just sit outside and watch, and wait, and hope that next time I’m not there, you don’t die.”

“Are you sure you want to stay for dinner?” Soobin asked. “You can escape, if you leave now. My mom talks a lot.”

“All the better. My mom’s working and dad’s out of town. It’s either eat with you or go to Kai’s, and I’m not happy with Kai right now. And your mom, well. I like talking a lot, and she seems nice. I’d like to get to know her better.”

“Fair,” Soobin said.

“Is she?”

“What?”

“Nice. Really nice. Or does she just seem it?”

“She’s really nice. I mean, nice for real. Life hasn’t gone so great for her, but she’s still pushing forward.”

Mia looked like she wanted to enquire further, but at that moment, the door lock beeped, and Soobin’s mother entered the apartment (and the conversation) for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact: the night after writing the first draft of this chapter (which was July? Beginning of August?) I dreamed that my teeth were falling out, and it was NOT a pleasant dream, lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I'm not working this weekend, so after I finish writing a couple essays for school, I intend to spend a couple hours working on the continuing draft of this story :) Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a lovely weekend! Next chapter will be published at some point next weekend.


	43. Run Away: Chapter 6

Taehyun wasn’t surprised when Beomgyu didn’t show up.

On most nights, when they left their friends, Beomgyu would go to his house and get food, then meet Taehyun at the train yard, and they’d hang out until it was nearly dark. Or, more recently, fully dark. The sun was setting earlier and earlier, and it was easy to lose track of time.

Tonight, though, the sky went dark, and Beomgyu didn’t come. Taehyun didn’t blame him. 

They’d been texting ever since school got out, even before splitting off from their friend group to go home.

Taehyun: _srsly i dont want to go back to that place_

Beomgyu: _Why though? It’s our only chance._

Taehyun: _can’t you just trust me?_

Beomgyu: _I’m the one with instincts. And I don’t feel anything wrong with it._

Taehyun: _thats just cause you want to live somewhere where you arent responsible for your actions_

Beomgyu: _That’s stupid. It’s fun and we might learn something._

Taehyun: _fun doesn't matter when youre too busy trying to stay alive_

Beomgyu had started typing back after that. Several times. He hadn’t sent anything. He’d called half an hour later, but Taehyun ignored the call, and Beomgyu didn’t leave a voicemail.

Taehyun barely felt the ache in his stomach anymore. The lightheadedness was what plagued him now. He had to stand up slowly, so he wouldn’t get dizzy.

Things were supposed to be better once school started. But the school principal had pulled him aside and said that if he didn’t stop booking wagers, he was going to have Taehyun’s parents in for a meeting. That couldn’t happen, so Taehyun stopped taking bets. The Smeraldo Cafe would give him as much food as he could eat when he was there, but it closed at 7, and usually there wasn’t time to get there unless the whole group went. Sometimes they did, and sometimes they went for burgers, but it wasn’t every night.

In his container house, he had three drawings tacked up on the walls. Three very different, very friendly monsters that Kai had drawn him. He hadn’t asked for them. Kai had drawn them of his own will, to give Taehyun as a present. He had a few in his sketchbook, too. Kai wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea that monsters might not all be evil.

Would Beomgyu hurt him in the real world, like he had in that House?

Taehyun let his eyes drift closed. Rain began to fall softly outside, the sound of it hitting the sheetmetal roof drowning out everything. He wondered if no one would get the chance to hurt him. If he’d maybe fall asleep and just not wake up again.

_BANG BANG BANG._

Taehyun jumped up before he realized he’d been sleeping. He swayed on his feet, the inside of the container spinning before his eyes.

_BANG BANG BANG._

“Who’s… there…” Taehyun said, sitting on the edge of his bed and taking a breath.

“Please let me in.”

Beomgyu. 

Taehyun tapped his phone. It was after midnight.

“I’m sorry," Beomgyu continued, "Just. Please. I can’t go back.”

“I’m coming,” Taehyun said, and with effort, he made it to the door and slid back the bolt.

Beomgyu didn’t come in. He just stood there, shivering in the rain.

“Get inside, and try not to drip too much.”

Beomgyu shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t bring any food. I… I shouldn’t…”

“Get the frick in here already.”

Beomgyu still didn’t move. He seemed to cower away from Taehyun, and Taehyun was afraid he might run into the darkness.

He reached and took his sleeve, pulling him inside. Slowly, carefully, but with no room for argument.

As soon as the door was closed, Beomgyu’s knees went out. Taehyun caught him, but they just softened each other’s fall.

“What’s the matter?” Taehyun asked.

“Please don’t make me leave. Please, Taehyun. I can’t go back there. I can’t.” Beomgyu shivered, and his voice was high.

“Hey, just chill, okay?” He reached to brush Beomgyu’s wet bangs out of his eyes. Beomgyu shrank away from his touch, gasping.

Taehyun stood up.

“Don’t make me leave,” Beomgyu whined, “Please don’t make me leave, I can’t, I can’t, they’ll”—

“Shut up,” Taehyun said, a little harsher than he wanted. “I’m getting the light.” The lantern flickered a minute before turning on. Damn. He’d need new batteries one of these days, and the nights were just getting longer…

Beomgyu ducked his head.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

“I can’t go back.”

Taehyun knelt beside him again. “Let me see.”

Slowly, Beomgyu lifted his chin. It was hard to see in the pale, yellow light, but there was definitely a dark blotch on his chin, and another next to his left eye.

“Does it hurt?” Taehyun asked.

Beomgyu nodded.

“Why’d they hit you?”

“Because I broke the rules.”

Taehyun snorted. “How?”

He meant, _“How can they justify hitting their kid?”_ , but Beomgyu took it literally.

“I was supposed to be home by dark. But it gets dark so early, it was almost sunset before I was getting out of the house, and”—

“Wait, what?”

“I promised I’d bring you food. I know you’re mad at me, so I wasn’t going to stay, but you’re so hungry, so I thought I’d just leave it on the step. But Dad… he, he stopped me. Said I couldn’t. And I… I really was disrespectful. Told him he didn’t control me. But there aren’t any TV interviews anymore, so, I guess, he felt okay to hit me again. Don’t be angry, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come, but I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t.”

“I’m not angry at you,” Taehyun said, unable to stop his voice from shaking.

“They’ll kill me. I couldn’t stay there. I have to get out. I have to.”

“We’ll get you out, I promise. Tomorrow, we’ll get Kai’s uncle, and tell him. He’s smart. A lawyer. He’ll help you. Okay?”

Beomgyu nodded, and sniffled. “I hate this,” he said, his voice cracking.

“You want to talk more?”

Beomgyu shook his head.

“You want to sleep?”

Beomgyu nodded.

“There’s some dry clothes in the box over there. Don’t want to catch a cold.”

Beomgyu cringed as Taehyun helped him stand, but otherwise made a good show of not being hurt as he took four steps to the corner of the container. He rifled through the cardboard box that served as Taehyun’s dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt.

“Don’t watch me change,” he said, his voice cracking.

Taehyun looked away. 

He tried to imagine what would make Beomgyu’s parents treat him like that. They had everything: money, status, security. A son and heir who might have not quite been human, but still was a good kid. 

After a few minutes, Taehyun lifted his eyes. Beomgyu was fully dressed in dry clothes, but still standing in the corner, shivering.

“Beomgyu?”

“We’ve got to go first,” he said.

“What?”

“We’ve got to go back to that House before we deal with… with me.”

“No,” Taehyun said, “You said it yourself. Your parents will kill you. The mission can wait.”

“So my life’s more valuable than Yeonjun’s?”

“Yeonjun’s not going to die if we wait until next week,” Taehyun said.

“He might.”

“But you’re…”

“Let’s just wait until Saturday. Okay?”

“I don’t like this. What if your parents come to the school?”

“Then I’ll tell everyone, and I’ll have evidence.” His fingers brushed the bruise on his jawline.

“What’ll you tell everyone before then?” Taehyun asked. “Your face’ll be black and blue in the morning.”

“Tripped down the stairs. Really scary. Lucky I didn’t break something.”

Taehyun sighed and stretched out on his bed. It would work. The rest of their group seemed pretty oblivious to real-world pain and suffering. Their pain was limited to their curse, not simply heightened by it.

“I don’t know if I can sleep,” Beomgyu said.

“Close your eyes and count sheep or whatever.”

“That doesn’t work.”

“Just try?”

“I’m so scared.”

“Instincts?” Taehyun said, his eyes snapping open, “Is there something coming?”

“No, not like that,” Beomgyu said, “We’re safe here. There’s magic on this place. I’m just. _Scared._ All the time.”

“If the magic keeps us safe,” Taehyun said, “Nothing can hurt you here.” He closed his eyes again.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, the mattress shifted as Beomgyu lay down next to him.

“Thanks for letting me in,” Beomgyu said.

“Just promise you won’t leave before we get you help,” Taehyun said.

“Mm-hmm.” Beomgyu already sounded sleepy.

The more he thought about it, the less it surprised him that Beomgyu wasn’t afraid of the House. The magic. That otherworld where nothing made sense. How it might appeal to him, being somewhere where he seemingly made the rules. Where anything he wanted came to pass with no work involved except wanting something. Beomgyu loved magic, and he wanted more of it.

Soobin, on the other hand, knew magic. He’d studied the alchemy and spells. He knew their forms, and he knew what they cost. He’d been willing to take it, last week, as they healed Mia and hid the Eternal Flame. And Taehyun had let him, only granting him as much power as Soobin asked for.

Taehyun had magic. He knew, as he watched Soobin scratching out the alchemy, that he could do it better. That he could do it stronger, and faster, and with much less cost to himself. Yet he let Soobin do it anyways. Let Soobin stumble home with the exhaustion and mental drain that the magic had taken in exchange for just a few small requests.

Taehyun would have been unaffected, in both waking a sleeping girl and changing a box’s atomic makeup. He could be a huge help to their cause, their mission, their saving of the world, if he used magic to the full extent he was capable of.

He couldn’t, though, because Beomgyu wanted magic and Soobin knew magic. If he showed too much skill, especially in light of their research into the kinds of monsters that existed, Soobin would begin to narrow down what Taehyun was. What he could do, what he inevitably would do. The False Death was not an exception in the case of odd-eyed monsters: he was the rule.

But Beomgyu didn’t know yet. So it made no sense, what he’d done to Taehyun in that House. The impossibly thick blanket over him. The struggle to breathe. Beomgyu’s hands, pinning him down, and he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t. 

Beomgyu wanted escape, and magic was the only way he knew how. So why had he taken that power and freedom and used it to hurt Taehyun?

Or had Taehyun just imagined it?

Impossible to think that the kid laying next to him, who had been beaten because he’d tried to bring Taehyun food even when they were in an argument, would hurt Taehyun in any way. This was Beomgyu. His friend. The person who knew more about him than anyone—who knew everything except one small detail—would never hurt him.

Until he learned that detail.

Then, almost certainly, he would, and he’d have every right.

He’d kill Taehyun and not look back.

Taehyun held the same potential for chaos and destruction as the False Death did. Soobin already suspected the power he held. Beomgyu’s instincts must have driven him to hurt Taehyun in that House, and they were right. 

They’d be right to kill him. Monsters were _evil_. Too much magic and power never had a good ending.

“Taehyun? Why are you crying?” Beomgyu murmured.

“Just… you’re hurt and… I hate it,” Taehyun said.

“Aww, I’ll be okay,” Beomgyu said, “Don’t cry about me.” He settled himself even closer to Taehyun, arm thrown across his chest, breath soft on Taehyun’s shoulder.

##

Dr. Park should have been used to failure. It had been over a decade since their last success, but she still remembered it. She wanted it again: the feeling of doing something right. The feeling that Death himself, a Death that had earned his position, was happy with her. That she had a strong hand in the fate of the world.

“He wants us to go to the Midworld, but he gives us no instruction,” Han said.

“That’s our job,” Jeong said, “If you don’t like it, get out.”

“If only,” Han replied.

Dr. Park tried to tune them out. They were getting tiresome. She felt the need for fresh blood amongst her assistants. Han, especially, seemed to be faltering, as the years went on.

Could she blame him?

On one side, no. It was frustrating. All the supernatural rules surrounding the search for the Chosen… anyone would have thought Abraxus was an idiot for agreeing to them.

Han had forgotten the years when it was not like that.

Dr. Park had not.

When they found this Chosen… it would be satisfying. And the beginning of a stronger line of search and ending for the ones the old Death chose for his successor.

“We’ll never get in,” Han said, “It’s impossible.”

“A human child has done it,” Jeong said, and she heard his knife scraping as he sharpened the blade. “We will discover the way.”

“Really? Like we’ve discovered anything of value over the past ten years? Hell, those monster freaks did better than us, when they wrecked that”—

The knife thunked into the table, and Han shut up.

“Be careful,” Jeong said, “Death hears all. You are replaceable.”

“You seriously think you’ll find someone like me, in all of Korea?”

“You aren’t so special,” Jeong said, but he didn’t have conviction in his voice.

Dr. Park, in fact, had already found a replacement for Han when Death became tired of putting up with him. There weren’t many people like Han—sadistic psychopaths willing to serve supernatural entities—but there were some.

She had her eye on one in particular. Of course, he couldn’t be approached as long as Han remained in Death’s service, but one day. One day, she would present the opportunity of a lifetime to him, and he would accept.

For now…

“There is a way,” Dr. Park said. Her henchmen jumped to attention.

“What sort of way?” Jeong asked, truly curious.

“It’s in the Bloodbook,” she said, “A way to open the Gateway for mortals.”

Jeong and Han both looked at her, their eyes bright.

“It is simple in execution. At one of the Gateways, we must sacrifice a creature of the Midworld as instructed in the text. The gate will open, and we will have access to that great Woods.”

“Death will never let us,” Han said, “He said we are to watch the creatures of his realm, but not to harm them.”

Dr. Park smirked. “Think harder.”

Realization dawned in Jeong’s eyes. “No, that’s impossible,” he said, “We can’t find any of _them_. Our previous hypothesis stated that they’re too close to the Chosen for us to have any memory of them.”

Yes. The curse of their existence. That if ever they found the Chosen, they needed to keep hold of him, or they would lose all memory of who he was. The curse seemed to extend to anyone who was close to him, as well. Dr. Park was sure she had encountered one of the Chosen’s friends, once, but she had not been in the position to steal him away, and her memory was too blurry to know which of the hundreds of humans she encountered every week was truly a monster.

“We may run into them by chance. It is possible that we might find them. And once we do, if we keep an eye solidly on them until we can get them away, and never let them go until we’re to the point of sacrifice, it may just work.”

“I like it,” Han said, “I’ll be watching closely.”

“As will I,” Jeong said.

“It’s just a matter of time,” Dr. Park said, “Only a matter of time.”

##

Beomgyu huddled in the furthest-back bathroom stall in the furthest-back bathroom in the entire school. The yellow lightbulbs that hadn’t burned out entirely flickered. The trickle of water from the pipes under the sink to the drain had made its own canal after all the years it had been in disrepair. Even though he was the only student here now, an hour after the bell rang, a whisper of cigarette smoke still hung in the air.

The stall door was carved with words and images. Nothing so crude as one would expect in a high school bathroom stall. Most of the phrases were existential in nature, as if they’d been scraped by kids forced into hiding, and not those taking advantage of this hidden place to partake in any school-forbidden and probably illegal activities.

Beomgyu had hidden here any number of times, but today was his first time as an eleventh grader.

He knew he needed to go. Go to the Woods, with the others. That his fear would calm and his shoulder would stop aching. But his instincts, for the first time, held him back.

The door squeaked as it opened. 

Beomgyu bit his lip as the spines pressed through his skin.

“Beomgyu?”

Mia.

The spines didn’t tear through his shirt.

He could see her shoes.

“Come on. I know you’re in here.”

“This is the boy’s bathroom,” Beomgyu said.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“Creep.”

“Taehyun and Kai are looking for you,” Mia said. She crouched outside the door. “Remember? You’re going to the woods, before you go do your secret ritual again.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’ll give you strength, and more control over the lucid dreaming, or whatever you do in the other Gateways.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So why are you hiding?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“You’re scared,” she said, “But that’s okay. You’ve been scared before. The Woods helps, remember?”

How could he explain that his instincts were screaming at him not to go, even as his power was screaming to be free?

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu said, “I’m… I’m scared.”

“How’d you really get that bruise on your face?” Mia asked.

How’d she know about it? She couldn’t see him now. She… Duh. She’d seen him at lunch. Here and now wasn’t forever.

“I fell down the stairs,” he said, “Just like I told you.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Mia? No. She couldn’t know, because she couldn’t lie. If she knew, they’d all know, and things would fall apart, fall apart, and…

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t want to make you worry. I’m trying to get a hold of it. I just… I’m just so scared. And it won’t stop. And it’s so, so confusing.”

“Will you please come out?”

“In a minute.”

“I’ll wait outside, but if you take more than a minute, I’m telling Taehyun and Kai where I found you.”

How did she know that this was his secret? 

Also, how had she known this bathroom even existed?

The door creaked as she left. He stood slowly. His left leg had lost all feeling, and he limped to the sink. A couple splashes of cool water to his face didn’t do much, but it made him feel a little better. But just a little. His sweater was thick enough that the blood didn’t show, and really, he had to go to the woods, no matter how scared he felt about it.

He left the bathroom, and saw Mia leaning against a row of unused lockers against the other wall, typing away on her phone.

“I told Kai you’re on your way,” Mia said, “Want me to walk you there?”

Beomgyu almost said yes, but then, didn’t. “No,” he said, “I mean. We can walk together to the door. But you should go straight home, I think.”

She looked him in the eye for a minute. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll trust you. I'll go straight home, stay safe, and hope I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” There was no bitterness in her voice.

“Thank you,” Beomgyu said, “I’m really sorry you can’t go with us. But we all just want you to be safe, and after last time, well. You understand, right?”

She offered him her hand. “Shall we go?”

He considered for a moment, and then took her hand. A sweet relieve fell over him at her touch. A feeling of safety, not unlike how he’d felt last night as he fell asleep with his arm around Taehyun. He wasn’t alone. His parents might not love him, but other people did.

She hugged him, before they split ways at back entrance. “Be careful, okay?” she said.

“I’ll do my best,” he responded.

The fear returned, as she ran out the door towards the bus station. But he pushed through it. He followed his instincts down the halls, in search of the Gateway, in search of the Woods.

##

“Kai could stay with you,” Soobin suggested, “He doesn’t need to go in the woods.”

“That wouldn’t help,” Yeonjun said. He dropped into one of the plastic chairs next to the pool so dramatically that Soobin rolled his eyes.

“You’re pathetic.”

Yeonjun sighed. “All of you, going off to the Woods, and leaving me here alone.”

“Is your headache that bad?” Soobin asked.

“No. I hardly feel it at all.”

“Then that’s settled. You’re staying. And if you’re here, we’ll definitely come back here, so everyone wins.”

Yeonjun moaned.

“It’s for your own good,” Soobin said.

“I know.”

“So stop whining.”

“What, am I annoying you?” Yeonjun glared at him. “You know what’s really annoying? Having to just sit here, alone, in this stupid pool room while my friends get to frolic around a magical forest.”

“A magical forest that is home to an evil being that wants to slit your throat,” Soobin said, “Besides, you said you have homework.”

“Everyone has homework. You’re the only one of us likely to get into college at the rate we’re going.”

“But you’re the one who will be expelled if you get a single F this semester.”

“I’ve told them, I didn’t start the fire at the night school last year! I told them a hundred times!”

“Twenty-three.”

“Huh?”

“That’s how many times you were in detention last year, and obviously the reason they suspected you.”

“Is that counting the two weeks I spent in juvie?”

“You’re the worst, you know that? Just shut up and do your homework.”

Soobin finished the last circle that would guarantee they could all exit the Woods at the same place they entered. It was light magic, nothing too draining. 

“Are you sure it’s safe for Kai to go?”

“With that protection spell you gave him, he’ll be good.”

“You sure?”

“How’s that pre-calc work going? Want me to quiz you while we wait?”

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Yeonjun said, sarcastically.

Soobin wasn’t sure if he was having a good time or if he wanted to yell at Yeonjun until he shut his stupid mouth, but they were interrupted by Kai and Taehyun clattering down the stairs.

“What took you so long? You should have been here half an hour ago,” Yeonjun said. He’d kicked his feet up on the table, and looked at the two youngest with half-closed eyes. Yeah, he was definitely not going to do homework while they were gone. Probably would take a nap, which, honestly, could be helpful for their adventures later in the evening.

Soobin wished he could take a nap.

Memories of the exhaustion that came from using magic made his bones ache.

Kai and Taehyun lightened the mood, mostly. Taehyun seemed a little off, even though he took off his glasses and returned to the land of the seeing. His eye wasn’t fully black. The edges were cloudy, like someone had smudged the color just there. The star didn’t shine, either.

Why did the physical manifestation of Taehyun's power not go away after running in the Woods? And why did it vanish after spending time in the Gateway to the Underworld?

God. Too much to think about. No wonder he was so tired.

It took Beomgyu another ten minutes to arrive, and that was when something clicked in Soobin’s head.

He’d noticed it before. The strange sort of understanding that always held between Taehyun and Beomgyu. Like the six of them were split in two groups: Mia, Kai, Yeonjun, and Soobin on one side, and then Taehyun and Beomgyu on the other. He could tell that there were hundreds of words passing between the two of them in every glance. Words that they wouldn’t share out loud.

It went the same the other direction. Soobin felt he had a connection with Kai and Yeonjun and even Mia that he’d never had with Taehyun or Beomgyu. He didn’t know what made this divide. Money? He didn’t know what sort of people Taehyun’s parents were, but they lived in a great neighborhood, and Beomgyu’s father was the CEO of a small yet profitable company. Was it because of that? That they were both wealthier than the others?

No. That was dumb. Kai’s family wasn’t poor, either, and would only stand to get richer, as long as his uncle took on as many real clients as he did charity cases. Was it because Beomgyu and Taehyun each had two parents in the house, not dead or separated? Couldn’t be that, either—Mia’s parents had a great relationship, and Kai’s aunt and uncle were pretty much normal parents to him.

So what was it?

##

Once they were gone, Yeonjun gave up pretenses of napping and pulled out his calculus textbook. Staying in school hadn’t mattered so much last year. This year, there was still no hope for a future after high school, but his friends were here. It was easier to keep an eye on all of them when they were in the same building together all day.

And, well. Maybe there would be a way out of this whole being-death thing. Maybe, someday, he’d value having a high school diploma.

Five minutes later, there was a sound on the stair. The plastic chair scraped against the concrete as Yeonjun stood and glanced at the doorway. Could it be Mia? She shouldn’t be able to find this place without one of them leading her, but if not her… who?

The sound was definitely steps, and they were coming down.

Yeonjun squared his shoulders, and Baek Hyunjin stepped into the pool room. He turned towards Yeonjun and looked at him with that neutral gaze he seemed to have perfected.

His face was one that teachers loved, most students admired, and a small amount of kids feared more than anything else.

“‘Sup,” Yeonjun said, nodding at him. Best to get on top of the situation. Not let Hyunjin see how startled he was.

“Choi,” Hyunjin said, “And you’re the only one.”

“Hard to find a quiet place to study,” Yeonjun said, and tapped his calculus book.

“Studying is an interesting concept,” said Hyunjin. “I’ve never done it.”

Baek Hyunjin was first in their senior class, beating out the lead Soobin had held all of junior year. Yeonjun had no idea how you got there without studying. As far as Yeonjun was aware, Hyunjin didn’t even go to night school.

“Well, since some of us who have to work for our grades, could you maybe just go away and leave me in peace?”

Hyunjin took two steps closer to him. “You’re alone,” he said.

“That is the point, when one is trying to study in peace,” Yeonjun snarked.

“Do you think you could beat me in a fight?” Hyunjin asked in his dull voice.

Yeonjun tensed. “I’ve done it before,” he said, “Beat up your stupid sidekick, too.”

Hyunjin smiled. Just a little bit. “You don’t know why I have someone else catch my victims, do you?”

“Uhh, because you need help to bully freshmen,” Yeonjun said.

“Not at all.”

“Why, then?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination. But in the real world, right here and now, it’s you, and it’s me. You have beaten me before, but I didn’t see you coming, and you were protecting someone. Times have changed. You have no motive except your own safety. You were badly hurt just last month. And I? I am alone, and I’ve found you in the same state, even though there should be someone else here.” Hyunjin looked around the room. “I don’t see any exits. This is a very peculiar place.”

“Again,” Yeonjun said, “It’s a place where I come, _alone_ , to study, _alone_ , because I have to work for my grades.”

Hyunjin was far too close. Yeonjun closed his fist around his pencil. If this guy attacked him, he would not hesitate to fight back. But Hyunjin was right. Yeonjun knew some techniques, now, that he hadn’t before. But he was still weak from his injury. He did not have the element of surprise. And the righteous fire that had caught in his soul when he saw Kai getting slammed against the wall had no reason to burn when it was just him.

“You forget,” Yeonjun said, “You don’t scare me. Even if you could beat me, which I doubt, I’ll tell the world what you did. And the wave will come crashing down. Kai first, then Beomgyu”—

A grin spread across Hyunjin’s face. “He won’t say anything.”

“You underestimate him,” Yeonjun said. “My point is, once one person speaks, they’ll all come forward. No amount of money in the principal’s pocket will save you when dozens of angry mothers are storming his office, demanding justice for their children.”

“I could just kill you,” Hyunjin said.

A cold shiver ran up Yeonjun’s spine.

“There’s a pool here,” Hyunjin continued, “I get the upper hand for three seconds, and it would be easy. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drown someone.”

“They’d catch you,” Yeonjun said.

“Maybe.”

They stood, staring at each other, for three solid minutes. For once in his life, Yeonjun didn’t feel like saying anything. 

Hyunjin backed down. “It’s not the right time,” he said. “I’ll be off. You’re a worthy opponent, Choi Yeonjun. We will meet again.”

“We’re in the same class,” Yeonjun said, “I’ll see you on Monday, whether I want to or not.”

Hyunjin walked away, his steps barely making a sound. “Choi Beomgyu will disappoint you,” he said, “He always breaks.”

“He’s changed,” Yeonjun said.

“Just wait,” Hyunjin said, turning to face him. “I know him better than you ever will.” Another grin slid across Hyunjin’s face, and he disappeared up the stairs.

##

The Woods.

What a wonderful, beautiful place to be alive.

How lovely to _hear_.

To not be _afraid_.

To be _home_.

Taehyun felt none of these things.

Like the others, he saw the spiderwebs and the trees and the starlight. He pretended he did not see the bones. He walked, his footsteps soft in the loam. His hands brushed the fuzzy bark of the trees.

But he did not use his power.

He would rather not see the living world than ever see the dead one again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stuff happening here, including a bit of POV from the villains. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next week!


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